Disclaimer:
Let's just skip the giant disclaimer you can find in Chapter 1!
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FS
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x. ENCOUNTER in VENICE x.
(new version)
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Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and gray
Look out on a summer's day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul
("Vincent (Starry, Starry Night)", by Don McLean)
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The wedding was…
(Saturday, November 3rd 20xx, from different points of view)
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The wedding was a sham—a toe-curling, tired fairy tale for dopey boys and girls. The sweet royal couple couldn't content themselves with worshipping their fabled True Love all by themselves (it was bloodcurdlingly creepy how they showed off their stilted couple photos on their walls and desks, deified kitschy mementos of their relationship on their shrine substitutes (all their cupboards and her bedside table!), even filmed each other during candle-lit anniversaries as they stuffed themselves with monstrous cream cakes or her inedible homemade cookies), they also had to dragoon all their friends and acquaintances into celebrating The Unforgettable Grand Day with them at all cost—two years to a day after Three Lights left Japan.
The Queen—a tiny plain-vanilla candy luxuriously wrapped in gaudy, super-glossy satin embroidered with silver thread, imported white pearls, and rose-studded lace—was now gazing at him with hyperbolic adoration while her King—a gangling, pompous imitation of Kaitou Kid in a white tie dress and a white cape with lavender lining (the sort of fancy ball attire which would have looked sophisticated on Taiki (surprisingly agile despite his great height) and stylish on Seiya with his wild looks and raffish air but only made His Stodgy Royal Highness resemble a banker with pomaded hair and a sad Moonlight Magician fetish)—contemplated him with a more serious but equally idiotic, fond smile on His majestic, complacent face. And both of them were insultingly, though not completely, oblivious to the suffering of the victims of their fancy masquerade.
"I've seen you in The Z-files of Detective Boy Holmes…" the amber-eyed Calliope (a laughable representation of the Greek muse presiding over epic poetry) in front of him purred, wafting Chanel Allure Sensuelle, which she had just sprayed on her neck and both of her wrists once again as if she were trying to rob him of his sense of smell. Rubbing his nostrils to prevent himself from sneezing, as he was allergic to most synthetic fragrances, Yaten cautiously edged away from her and promptly collided with Taiki, who had been thoroughly, inexplicably, immersed in a particularly dull conversation about the dynamic of asteroids.
"…And you were a divinely beautiful Watson!" Calliope gushed, ignoring Yaten's obvious discomfort. "So sensitive and polite to boot! It's a shame that other Sherlock Holmes adaptations neglect Watson's gentlemanly side!" Flashing him a coy smile, she continued in a conspiratorial tone, "Watson was the most underrated character in canon. That's why you auditioned for the role, right?"
If she were genuinely interested in Yaten and his rendition of Watson, she would have known that: no, Yaten didn't audition for the role at all. Yaten made no secret of his dislike for Conan Doyle's Watson, which was the very reason why Yaten had tried his best to bring out Watson's charm, which was alluded to but seldom shown in the canon. If he hadn't promised Seiya to put on his most adorable face for the grand occasion, Yaten could even inform Calliope that he believed the original Watson of the canon to be a doting fool, a bland sidekick whose straight-laced morals elevated Sherlock Holmes' nimble mind and sharp intellect to godlike height. Conan Doyle himself didn't hold his narrator in high esteem; but in this world where utter stupidity and extreme callousness had become commonplace and where dewy-eyed naiveté was the nicer (though not necessarily better) alternative, Watson's insufferable mediocrity had acquired a quaint, noble shine, which only nostalgia could lend to all things which were hopelessly dated but were now called "vintage".
"I didn't audition for Young Watson," he put her straight. "Akane-san asked me to play the role, which paid so well that I couldn't refuse." Discussing Detective Boy Holmes with Calliope was casting pearls before swine (or before cockroaches, which Yaten hated with passion since he was five); but Yaten still steered his most serene, most lovely smile in the direction of the balcony where Calliope's real object of desire was languishing, staring down at the French garden with an intensity which only love or hate could stimulate (while enduring the vapid chatter of his present companion, a dirty-blonde siren in a grey Fusae "Arielle" fishtail dress).
"Watson wasn't an underrated character, in my opinion," Seiya, answering to Yaten's silent plea for help after taking Yaten's cue, sidled up to Yaten with the siren in tow and murmured in his dark silky voice, which never failed to put his victims in a trance, "The most underrated character in the canon was Godfrey Norton…"
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To Sherlock Holmes she is always the woman, Yaten recited as he bent over the large blank notebook on his lap, into which he was scribbling with a peacock-blue fountain pen and black ink. I have seldom heard him mention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex. It was not that he felt any emotion akin to love for Irene Adler. All emotions, and that one particularly, were abhorrent to his cold, precise, but admirably balanced mind.
For the third time since the crack of dawn, Yaten let his pensive gaze roam about the cramped, dimly lit room before resting it on the polished mahogany desk, where a particularly flattering portrait of Itsuki Alice, the rising star of the jazz scene, whose sonorous mezzo soprano and lush auburn hair had secured her the role of Irene Adler, sat. It was money for jam, saying these lines about Sherlock-Taiki, and Yaten only had to imagine Kakyuu in Itsuki-san's stead.
He was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning and observing machine the world has seen: but, as a lover, he would have placed himself in a false position. He never spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe and a sneer. They were admirable things for the observer—excellent for drawing the veil from men's motives and actions. But for the trained reasoner to admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely adjusted temperament was to introduce a distracting factor which might throw a doubt upon all his mental results. Grit in a sensitive instrument, or a crack in one of his own high-power lenses, would not be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such as his. And yet there was but one woman to him, and that woman was the late Irene Adler, of dubious and questionable memory…
Cut! Akane-san barked and began to clap, whereupon the crew, which she commanded like Lord Nelson his British fleets, joined in. You're great, Yaten! I don't think we'll need another take. We must save your beautiful husky voice for the honeymoon scene and move on to our Martini Shot now! Noriko, Yaten, please be ready on the closed set in fifteen minutes. All the other talents can call it a day… except for you two, Seiya, Taiki. Please wait in the Green Room for me! We still need to discuss the scenes at Briony Lodge and Irene Adler's wedding.
Break a leg and bring it behind you today, Taiki whispered, and don't bite off Okamachi-kun's head if she touches you inappropriately.
Define "inappropriately"! Yaten hissed. There isn't anything on me which she hasn't already pawed!
To be fair, the girl didn't intentionally take advantage of the occasion to feel him up despite nursing an embarrassing crush on him. It was Takeo-san, the camera operator, whose sneers made the horrible situation unbearable, added to the silly flesh-coloured pouches and pasties and cover-ups, which were supposed to protect their modesty but fell off during the most awkward moments so that both Okamachi Noriko-san and Yaten agreed to make do without them during their nude scenes. Due to Yaten's unbelievable run of bad luck on the set of Detective Boy Holmes, however, Akane-san was so perfectionist that she let Okamachi-san redo every single scene she starred in for a hundred times and also changed her mind regularly after watching the "finished" takes. Hence Okamachi-san and Yaten were now on a closed set again, preparing to grope themselves (in the literal and figurative sense) through John Watson and Mary Watson-née-Morstan's honeymoon during the hundred-and-fifty-third take of the opening scene of A Scandal in Bohemia or The Woman (Akane-san hadn't decided which title to use for the seventh episode of her Detective Boy Holmes series yet), while the camera operator was gloating over their plight. The Asshole wasn't only a remarkable talent but was also the only son of their most important sponsor, which was why "his few idiosyncrasies" were to be overlooked if Yaten wanted to keep his role.
For lack of a better religion or cult substitute, teenagers outside Kinmoku Sei, who didn't have lofty utopias to ponder on, worshipped True Love. Detective Boy Holmes, however, was exasperatingly true to canon in the sense that it didn't invent a love interest for Sherlock Holmes at all. Irene Adler provided the romantically inclined audience with a charismatic would-have-been lover, prevented Holmes from developing "softer emotions" for another woman by becoming his unobtainable ideal of a female, which no other woman could ever hope to kick from her pedestal, and changed his misogynist attitudes by eluding him just when he believed to have trapped her with ease. But the platonic Sherlock-Irene dynamic, as charming as it was, didn't supply enough exposed skin to the spoiled modern audience, which was why Yaten—cursing the day he let his two overactive brothers drag him to the audition for Detective Boy Holmes—was now stripping in front of the contemptuous eyes of the camera man.
Inspired by his own strikingly good looks (which could destroy kingdoms and create new world religions, according to Kakyuu), Yaten had prepared to audition for the role of Godfrey Norton while Seiya, accustomed to take centre stage, aimed for nothing less than Sherlock Holmes. Taiki, who would have contented himself with a role for which he didn't have to act to make time for yet another monograph on comets, was planing to audition for Mycroft, Sherlock's reclusive older brother. Life had other plans for them, however. No sooner had she laid eyes on Three Lights than Gushiken Akane ("Gushiken-sensei" to lesser mortals and "Akane-san" or "Akane-sensei" to her dearest protégés) pointed her imperious index finger at Seiya and demanded, That one! Unless his acting stinks, I'll have him as Young Moriarty and Godfrey Norton!
They needed a rakishly beautiful, dark man for Irene Adler's impulsive husband Godfrey Norton—so Akane-san claimed—and giving the same actor a double role by casting him as Sherlock Holmes' nemesis Young Moriarty would be a real treat for the fans. While beauty was the last thing which Yaten lacked and his silver-white hair could be easily dyed black, he looked, in Akane-san's words, "too cute and harmless" for the role. It didn't help that Itsuki Alice, who had just snatched the role of Irene Adler from Okino Yoko (another promising star), was almost taller than Yaten in heels. And Seiya, who liked the idea of taunting "Anokata-papa" and "Anokata-mama" with the fact that he refused to take over their organization but agreed to lead a criminal syndicate in a mainstream live action series, instantly warmed up to Young Moriarty.
Ironically, Taiki ended up playing Young Sherlock Holmes—the main role!—just because Akane-san loved his dramatic voice, his graceful gait, his narrow figure, and his unusual height. Yaten was forced into the unlikely role of Young Watson, whose blandness Akane-san would like to "downplay by giving him the face of an angel". Seiya, skeptical of the idea that Yaten should play Watson and also apprehensive of Itsuki-san, who had begun to size him up with a certain hunger in her eyes, suggested that Itsuki-san play Mary Watson while Yaten take Irene Adler instead—a role which required a delicate figure and a glamorous feminine face.
Akane-san wasn't keen on giving Seiya's Mr Norton a male Miss Adler, who was also his own brother, however, although the role of Irene didn't require either nude or romantic scenes. And thus—while his two lucky brothers didn't even have to kiss their partners, as Sherlock Holmes was asexual and Godfrey and Irene's unavoidable kiss during the wedding ceremony wasn't shown onscreen and therefore not filmed, much to Itsuki-san's heartache—Yaten, who had always been revolted by all sorts of physical contact with strangers, had to suffer the brutal torture of kissing various actresses throughout the series and doing at least five raunchy love scenes with Mary Watson.
After a whole morning of rolling in the sheets with Okamachi-san, whose efforts at serious acting was once again hampered by her infatuation with Yaten and her anger at Takeo-san and who, as a result, was dripping with sweat, soaking Yaten's freshly washed hair with her nauseatingly sweet perfume and her personal body scent, Yaten dragged himself into the Green Room, where Seiya compassionately rubbed his back and Taiki showed him "Anokata-mama's" latest message. After Three Lights informed their parents that they had landed high-paying jobs and were able to take Kakyuu with them, the answer had been a casual, outright dismissal. Kakyuu was the Organization's princess, accustomed to luxury which nonentities like Three Lights could never afford. This second message was to remind them that even the main roles in a live action series didn't suffice. Kakyuu wasn't allowed to leave Kinmoku Sei before Seiya, Taiki, and Yaten became "real international celebrities" and earned enough to make sure that their foster sister would lead a comfortable life.
Don't worry about her, she isn't lonely. We've bought her a few dogs to keep her company after you three left: a Miniature Poodle, a Border Collie, and a Doberman Pinscher.
Are the three dogs supposed to replace us? Yaten asked in disbelief, whereupon Seiya shot him a pitying glance.
Their parents had always had a peculiar sense of humour, which wasn't always fair and nice, Taiki observed. And the dog analogy was, admittedly, unambiguous even though it was neither useful nor fitting.
Why am I the Miniature Poodle? Yaten screeched, so enraged at the mental image that his famed husky voice rose to a shrill falsetto.
Because I'm definitely not the Miniature Poodle. Taiki smirked as he demonstratively stretched out his endlessly long legs. At least he was modest enough not to flaunt the fact that the most intelligent dog of the three was the Border Collie. And after the incidents with the cockroaches, the rats, the wild cats, the crows, the hyenas, and the wolverine they smuggled from Canada into the country just to "test" us, we all know who of us is supposed to be the Doberman Pinscher.
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Looks like piss, whose colour has been enhanced! Smells like piss scented with orange blossoms and rose perfume! I haven't ever tasted piss yet, but I bet it can't taste worse than this…
Despite himself, Yaten doubled over and moaned in pain as Seiya's elbow and fist connected with his stomach and his chest, and he would immediately have paid his disrespectful little brother back if Taiki (the traitor who had always sided with Seiya while pretending to be impartial!) hadn't caught his arm.
They pay us a fortune just to promote the drink. Stop whining and do your job, Yaten!
The three of them were leaning against the stone balustrade of the balcony of one of the many identically picturesque, identically decaying palazzos in Venice, smirking into the cameras while their long, smooth ponytails were flying in the late autumn wind. Above them, white gulls and doves were circling, ready to swoop down at any moment to devour the crumbs on the breakfast table, on which a rich assortment of wine bottles, tea pots, plates of pastries, and bowls of potato chips were artfully arranged around a balanced composition of colourful Murano glasses, painted luxury bone china, and white linen napkins—all rose-tinted and silhouetted against the background of the setting sun…
Unsurpringly, Three Lights devoted their whole attention to their garish neon-blue, neon-yellow, and shocking-violet cans of Galaxia's Golden Honeyed Ambrosia, blatantly ignoring the gorgeous bottle of mahogany-red Moscatel sherry, from which Seiya, in real life, would have stolen a sip before seating himself at the table.
With a smile which would accelerate global warming and a sigh which would haunt their female fans for years, Three Lights opened the cans in unison and knocked back the beverage, which tasted exactly like chilled piss would taste, in Yaten's opinion. What should he say—good arguments naturally ran out when the pay was twenty times higher than what they had been paid for Galaxia's Golden Sunkissed Buns. There was, after all, only one woman to him, who eclipsed and predominated the whole of her sex; and that woman wasn't the late Irene Adler.
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On a free Sunday, the night before they started filming the scenes at "Briony Lodge" (Irene Adler's home) and Irene Adler and Godfrey Norton's wedding in the church, Yaten was idly lounging on the roof of a skyscraper, watching Seiya and Taiki sneak up on a team of MI6 agents, who had caught Alan, one of their parents' best mediators, and who were trying to squeeze all the information on their parents and Kakyuu out of him. The first three agents, who hadn't expected anyone to climb through a window on the twenty-fifth floor, were knocked out by Seiya before they could react while the fourth and the fifth, who had been fast enough to whip out their guns, keeled over the moment Taiki's tranquilizing darts pricked their necks. Bored by the eternal inactivity (the natural consequence of his two brothers' tiresome excellence at close combat), Yaten—without letting go of his sniper rifle—proceeded to rehearse the dialogues for the following day.
"I can't imagine. I suppose that you have been watching the habits, and perhaps the house, of Miss Irene Adler."
How did Akane-san get the idea to cast Yaten out of all people as John Watson when Irene Adler would have been the perfect role for him, Yaten once again wondered, eyeing the large heart on his left ring finger, which was blue a few hours ago but was now shimmering in a pale violet hue. On the other hand, Yaten knew that, in real life, he didn't share many of Irene Adler's character traits. Yaten might look like a "lovely woman, with a face that a man might die for" (and that from Holmes' mouth!), but Seiya resembled Irene Adler much more with his fast reactions and impulsive decisions, his penchant for disguises, his singing, his generosity to complete strangers, and his overall cheekiness. If they had been cast according to their characteristics and their skills—Yaten mused—Taiki would have been cast as Moriarty or Mycroft, Seiya would have been cast as Sherlock Holmes, Jefferson Hope, or Irene Adler, and Yaten would have been cast as Moriarty's right-hand man Sebastian Moran, the crack shot. But then again, now that he repeated the dialogues between Holmes and Watson before the pair set off for Briony Lodge, Yaten had to admit that there were certain similarities between him and Watson.
"You don't mind breaking the law?" Taiki—who had just joined Yaten and who, well accustomed to reading Yaten's mind, immediately guessed what Yaten was doing—recited, slipping into his role of Sherlock Holmes as he helped Yaten wrap up the rifle and pack it into the case where he (Taiki, not Yaten) usually kept his bass guitar.
"Not in the least." Yaten gazed up at him in indignation.
"Not running a chance of arrest?"
"Not in a good cause."
"Oh, the cause is excellent!"
"Then I am your man."
"I was sure that I might rely on you." Taiki smiled, raising a meaningful brow at the ring, which Yaten, who liked high-class jewellery, was wearing. But you shouldn't grow too attached to your colour-changing sapphire since you'll have to part from it tomorrow unless you can talk Seiya into wooing Itsuki-kun for your sake. Let's go, Seiya and Alan are waiting!
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A/N: As everyone must have noticed, this chapter contained dialogues from Arthur Conan Doyle's "A Scandal in Bohemia".
