A scattered dream is like a far-off memory.
A far-off memory is like a scattered dream.
I want to line the pieces up: yours...
And mine.
-Sora, Kingdom Hearts II
He had just dragged himself into a prison yard, but it was time to rest. Even though he knew the night would be long, the day's hours were taking their toll. He and his band mates were at work for hours, wanting to perfect their latest album. It seemed as if they were chasing after an unattainable end, working to perfect notes, pitches and words. Striving to mold the most stubborn elements of song into their expectations, they worked until the breath ran dry from their bodies. Their singer gladly took the chance to go home, even though he dreaded what slept inside. All clocks read eleven. Rehearsals were notorious for consuming chasms of time, but that particular rehearsal had been the longest. Not being greeted by Yuki didn't help things. There wasn't much to expect, though, other than a picture-perfect home. As usual, everything looked as if it had been torn straight out of a magazine. Pristine counters, floors, windows-you name it. And not a peep out of Yuki. Bleugh. The bastard was probably still sour. He never took responsibility over any of his actions, even when arguments were clearly his fault. The eternally sour wretch struck fuses that very morning, annoying the living daylights out of a center singer. Of course Shuichi couldn't expect to hear anything out of him. Hmph. Trudging into the author's bedroom, he expected to find Yuki sitting upright, sulking over poorly written pages. He had the nerve to insult his songs, but the author couldn't write his way out of a hostage situation. But no. His expectations weren't met. Instead, he found the author fast asleep. His laptop sat at his side, discarded but forever loyal to its master. There weren't any scribbles of ill-fated romances on the monitor, but world renowned chef Ramsay was encouraging young chefs. With warm messages like 'get a move on, you donkey' and 'this wouldn't pass as cat food', the legendary Gordon Ramsay made sure things were probably done. Ha. Eiri Yuki had discovered the magic of free television. Online television. He couldn't have looked any cuter, either. Fast asleep, he was surely tucked away in dreams. Shutting down the laptop, Shuichi thought of the dreaming author with a smile. He then cupped the other man's face into his hands, and provided him with a kiss. It was a kiss on the nose, but nonetheless affectionate. He then went off to bed himself, hoping to meet his author in a dream.
"I remember," a singer whispered, face buried in a haven. His sanctuary stiffened, alarmed by the sound of his fragile voice. "I remember," the singer repeated, gently drawing himself out of an embrace. Amethyst eyes were distant but so close, filled with unnerving emotion.
"I remember how warm he was that night, wrapped up in his blankets. I remember the look on his face, and the rhythm of his chest. I remember how I thought of him that night, and looked forward to the morning. Now he's gone."
"You're going to remember those words, right?"
Bad Luck's Princess placed his hands on his hips, bearing a tremendously warm smile. "The last thing I wanna do is write songs, Dad. I'm just saying I remember. I remember how warm everything used to feel. And I want that warmth back."
Claude K Winchester seemed to be an eternally calm scholar, always composed even in the darkest of situations-especially if predicaments affected his loved ones. Despite his cool head, he wasn't immune to his family's pain. His singer's pain was his own, resonant not only throughout his heart, but through his soul as well. "Lemme guess," he said softly, wearing his own smile. He was gentle towards his lamb, treating Shuichi as though he were made of glass. "You still love him, right?"
The lamb replied with a tear-laden smile. "As much as I love breathing. I just wish I had answers. I wish...I wish I had been able to stop everything."
The blonde ruffled his short pink hair, beaming with a father's pride. "Okay then. That's all I need to know. But now take a look at this. Our pretty little Yuki has been stolen by an evil dragon-the very same dragon you've feared for years now. But the two of you have got to switch roles. Are you willing to embrace the future? Are you willing to play the part of a prince, instead of a princess?"
"I guess I am," a pink kitten mewled, rubbing his paws together. K instantly grimaced, looking as if grapefruit had been shoved into his mouth.
"Not good enough. You should know better than that by now, my little lamb."
Shuichi's smile broadened, stretched by the bank of adoration he held for his 'father'. "I am," he said, erasing his previous answer. He wiped rain water from his eyes, wishing to embrace the future with at least semi-clear vision. "But where do we go from here? The police can't help us."
"Ah ah ah, my pink fluffball. They may be unwilling pieces in our fairy tale, but we've got other options."
Bad Luck's fluffball threw his head back with a sigh. Meanwhile, birds soared on high through a crystal blue sky. "Dad, we can't storm the fortress. We'd be killed before we even saw the front doors!"
"Pessimism won't get you anywhere, Shuichi. I wasn't thinking of breaking down the front doors, either," K scolded him, wagging a finger. He turned his back to the singer, eyes focused on the balcony's (sensible) exit.
"We've got to be discrete, and discrete will shall be. Now, can you think of anything that would shed light on this situation? Any clues to the whereabouts of your princess?"
Shuichi couldn't stop smiling. There they were, standing before what could be a possible tragedy, and K was turning the situation into an outlandish adventure. The rambunctious moron was acting as one of Robin Hood's merry men, speaking and moving in dramatic tones.
If Shuichi loved him anymore, he'd explode. And Japan would lose its cutest singer.
"There might be something on his laptop," the Shindou offered, following the Winchester into Hiroshi's bedroom. "I know he wrote more than stories on it, but...it's not here."
"Right behind you. Or should I say, one step ahead of you?"
Two hearts were alarmed by the sound of a familiar voice, but received the new arrival with appreciative hearts. The missing author's brother, dressed in the most elegant of black suits, stood in the Nakano's doorway with a rather familiar object. "I took the liberty of breaking into my brother's house," he declared, delighted with his latest endeavor-but torn over the circumstances.
While tears burst into Shuichi's eyes, K snickered. "You idiot. You didn't break into anything. You've got a key!"
"And you ruined my fun," the black-haired Uesugi groaned, bowing his head. "Anyway, I've got my bro's best friend right here. And I know how to sneak into it."
"I'm glad he gave someone his log-in info," Bad Luck's singer said, beaming from ear to ear with affection. "He never wanted me near his laptop! Nice going, Tatsuha!"
"Yeah, well, I do what I can do when I can do it," came the warm yet sorrowful response. Two pairs of eyes accompanied a laptop's call to arms, watching and awaiting the future with silenced hearts. Yuki's brother was quick to summon the silent lifeform, desperately in need of answers-just as his friends were. Unfortunately, the pricey laptop's initial offering was grief. As soon as the writer's log-in screen was bypassed, a Bad Luck wallpaper appeared.
Hm. The laptop was taunting them. Punishing them for entering sacred territory.
None of them said a word. Bad Luck was there in all of its glory, complete with blissful bandmates and an over-productive manager, firing off his handguns. They were forever frozen in a celebratory state, celebrating the release of their second album. Not only did the wallpaper remind Shuichi of an inevitable cancellation, but it drew him into something.
Yuki claimed to hate his music. He claimed to hate the band. But his laptop, his secret girlfriend, proved otherwise.
And then came the folders. Right on the desktop, folder icons read 'Bad Luck mag articles' and 'BL photos'.
All of them felt as if they were reading an obituary.
"Anything about a journal?" the host of the home said, drawing a sobbing Shuichi into his arms. He had entered the room shortly after the laptop's greetings, but he was completely aware of the lowdown. Tatsuha threw him a smile in greeting, then returned to his brother's keyboard.
"I've got it all right here, underneath my grubby fingers. Bro can't hide anything from lil' ol' me."
Pulling up the Journal folder wiped the smile off his face. Nobody smiled as they scanned the monitor, inwardly wishing Yuki were present to beat them off with a stick. All four of them counted how many times a singer's name cropped up-
And not in a negative, 'I wish he'd rot in Hell' fashion.
Shuichi want to fall into a million pieces, but chose not to tear his eyes away. The author's poetic prose ensnared his eyes, practically singing an angel's praises. Yuki painted the most beautiful pictures with words, writing about dancing stars and glistening raindrops. Pink-tinted pearls and sun-kissed smiles.
The aspiring prince had chosen to remain upright, but couldn't ignore his tears. Amethyst eyes, already weary from previous excursions, swelled with glistening rain.
Something else was brought into the open. Yuki didn't hate Bad Luck, or Shuichi Shindou. He only pretended to hate them.
"Approaching designated coordinates," the young Uesugi said, softly referring to his entrance into Pearl territory. "I did my homework on the way here, but I need to be schooled in the Pearl language. Big bro's pretty fluent in it, though."
"It's like he sold himself to a cult," the Winchester said, rubbing his chin. Pensive and stern, but forever kind, he joined Hiro in an embrace to comfort Shuichi. "Throughout the stream of time, religions and communities used secret languages as means of communication. Their lives, homes and culture were only meant for the chosen ones. This particular cult, in the business of selling young men, is rather careful with its commodities. Yuki must've been a chosen Pearl."
The Nakano's face curled into a snarl. "What I still can't figure out is this. How in the Hell can such a business operate? I mean, come on. Hundreds of men are vanishing off the face of the Earth, our Yuki's gone, and all of this is legal?"
"Brothels were pretty popular back in the day," Bad Luck's captain pointed out, speaking as a History professor. "With all the right names, and all the right backup, a bevvy of beautiful men can be an asset to anyone. And apparently, someone decided to take advantage of the world's most beautiful men. Pretty savvy businessman, if you ask me."
There was a smile on Tatsuha's face, but his words were anything but sweet. "Yeah, but we don't even know who the pig is. Everything's in riddles! The staff apparently goes by nicknames. We've got to figured out their freaky tattoos too. Their 'products' have got 'em all over their arms and chests!"
"Hold up a tick. If Yuki gave himself to that hellhole, who let him in?"
All eyes, widened in apprehension, turned to Hiro. "Guys are disappearing all over the globe, but Yuki pretty much threw himself at the organization's feet," the Nakano said gently, all the while nodding. "Who gave him his membership?"
"I think I have an idea."
Shuichi was the next recipient of attention. "That son of a bitch must've introduced Yuki to the Pearls," the pink kitten growled, voice and eyes laden with tears. Hearing Shuichi use profanity was akin to hearing a whale sing opera, but everyone disregarded the oddness of the situation.
"It must've been that guy! That guy I saw him with!"
Tatsuha's eyes made a quick return to the laptop's bank of information. "Name's Eike," he reported, flipping through his brother's thoughts. "According to my beloved sibling, he came in from Sidney, Austrailia. On vacation. Needed a quick get away from work, and a boring home life. No last name. Got a profile, Shu?"
"I've got the best visual memory in all of Tokyo," the Shindou declared with a smile, eyes exuding frail but beautiful sunlight. "The guy had long black hair, golden earrings, the tattoo of a falcon on his right arm, and brown eyes."
"Must be a messenger's mark," K suggested, still rubbing at his chin. "I'm sure he's rounding up more recruits at every bar in town."
Bad Luck's guitarist frowned. "But why Yuki?"
"Celebrity status. But then again, the head honchos are doing everything to erase every mark of existence," the Winchester said, eyes peering Heavenward. "In their eyes, our missing princess doesn't have a name. No name, no history-nothing."
No one spoke for a short while, burdened by the latest news. Tatsuha occupied himself with scaring at Yuki's screen, while Hiro and K stared aimlessly at a bedroom's contents. Shuichi peered into his dearest friend's chest, eyes heavy with a million tears. "Ark's taking care of the media, isn't he?" he asked the young brunette, eyes stirring up tears. The Nakano nodded, and Tatsuha followed in his wake.
"Tohma and Sis are helping him out. They've got that end covered. I think its time for us to play detective."
