Hoshigumi - Watashi Ni!
"Right," said Kaede as the teenagers and their angelic companions walked into the building. "We'll move into the new base on September the 30th. Sakura Shinguji will be attending the ceremony with her great-granddaughter, who'll be joining the team, and the Royal Family will be there too." She looked up from her clipboard. "Who are they? You know you can't bring civilians into a military base!"
"They're Angels," stated Gendo calmly.
"Oh right. You'll each need to fill in one of these forms," she said, passing pieces of paper around, "to let the decorators know how you want your own house decorated. ANGELS?"
"Yeah," replied Jessica. "The one in the bad suit-"
"Hey, I'll have you know that I am the coolest person in all known universes!" interrupted Bagdial.
"-Lived in Gendo's sword, and the other one is his…"
"Aide-de-camp," put in Jikariel smoothly. "Jikariel, Angel of Shadows, Hunter of Souls, also known as Nemesis, also known as the Grim Reaper and all permutations thereof, although I use a spear, not a scythe, also known as Mr Anthony James Crowley, at your service, ma'am. This," indicating the coiffed one, "is Bagdial, Angel of Style, also known as Pierre Bagdial, fashion designer."
"General Kaede Ichirou, commander-in-chief, International Anti-Demon Defence Force, MP."
"MP?"
"Member of Parliament. I'm the cabinet minister for the Force."
"Ah. Of course. May I see your Mechs? I'm sorry, I don't know what you call them now."
"Um, at the moment we're using Tenbu and Eisencrite shells with new systems, and we're in the process of moving the systems into the new units. They should be ready by the end of the month. This way, please." Kaede led the Angels to the hanger.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, a teenage girl awoke in fright. She fought to stop herself screaming, and looked around the room nervously.
"Obaa-chama! What are you doing in here?"
"You had a nightmare, Kimiko. I came to comfort you."
"But you were in here before I woke."
"Well, your mind was so loud I couldn't help it. I wouldn't get a wink of sleep even if I wanted to."
"Why do I keep having these nightmares, Obaa-chama?"
"They have returned."
"Who?"
"Them. The Kouma. But this time, they are different. No Tenkai. Someone else leads them."
"The Bringer of Light."
"That is correct. The one that Christians call the Adversary, or Beelzebub, although that name is incorrect. Beelzebub is lesser to Him, the Twelve-Winged Angel. Lucifer. And at the end of the month, you will go and fight the Kouma, and then - and only then – will your nightmares cease."
"But Obaa-chama, what can I do about them until then."
"Tomorrow, you start your search for Arataka and the Cherry Blossom Spirit Attack. Until then…well…"
"What?"
"When I became a grandmother, I made a list of wise advice to give. None of this will help, but something a friend of mine once said will."
"What is it?"
"You must be patient, Kimiko. She said, "When all else fails, hit something with something." You should try that." With that, Sakura Shinguji left the room.
Several weeks later, in London.
"Hey Gendo. What do you think about having a huge party, our last night in the prefabs before moving into the dome? Sarah and I are thinking of forming a band," Dave told the ninja. "She'll play drums, I'll play either bass or lead guitar, and we were hoping you'd sing?"
"Me? Sing?"
"I've heard you singing in your room, so don't deny it."
"Yes, maybe. But I'd feel foolish singing in front of people."
"Just imagine everyone in their underwear. Apparently it works, but I've never had to meself."
"Will Jennifer be there?" queried Gendo seriously.
"Yeah, of course. Why?"
"Then I do it.
"You pervert!" spluttered Dave.
"I prefer term "Hentai no Otaku.""
"And what does that mean?"
"Hentai mean pervert, perversion or pornography, anything like that. No is roughly equivalent to English "'s" or "of." Otaku is fan, often obsessed fan, for example of computer game or TV show."
"So, "Fan of Perversion.""
"But it sounds better than English, when you say in Japanese."
"Never mind… Look, do you know a guitarist?"
"Yes. Vlad. He plays song and I sing. We do Aero Smith songs often. Sarah call us Toxic Twins. What does this mean?"
"It was the nickname for Steve Tyler and Joe Perry – you know, singer and guitarist for Aerosmith – because they did so many drugs. I think it suits you," Dave added dryly.
"We do no drugs. Only Aero Smith songs."
"No, because you act like twins. And like Aerosmith."
"Oh. I see."
"Well, ask Vlad, and tell me by tonight. Our last night is only a few days away."
Gendo cast one last, nervous – although he would never admit it – glance around the other members of what had become known as "his" band, although it had been Dave's idea. Vlad and Sarah were both dressed as they normally did, Vlad in black, and Sarah in her mixture of kilt and punk paraphernalia. Dave was dressed like he had just walked off the set of The Crow. Gendo had reluctantly accepted the help of the Divine Duo, Bagdial and Jikariel – which latter was, surprisingly, a fierce opponent of Nu-Metal. He had ended up looking like he would have done if he hadn't accepted their help, but more expensive. He glanced around the curtain that covered the door. Outside was a small stage in front of the car park, which had been covered with a huge tent in case of rain. Gesturing for the others to follow, he walked onto the stage.
"AAAAAALL RIGHT! Everyone is going to listen to us, and then and only then can you go over to the bar and get completely pissed. Except you can't. Because there are under-eighteen-year-olds here. And we don't have a bar, only a fridge. Never mind! We're gonna do some requests! Let's see…you – no, not you. You're ugly…yeah, you!" A midget in the mosh pit mumbled something. "Well, whaddaya know, we were gonna do that anyway! One, two, three, FOUR!"
Three hours later, Vlad played the closing riff to Black Sabbath's Paranoid.
"THANK YOU GOOD NIGHT WE LOVE YOU ALL! Except you, you're ugly," he added hastily to the young lady whose underwear had been repeatedly removed from the stage that they were in the process of leaving.
"Vlad," commented Dave. "They don't use catgut for guitar strings any more. If they did, any cat would be happy to die to become part of your guitar." Gendo agreed, his voice retuning from the bizarre accent he had used onstage to his usual calm, "grammatically enlightened" Oxford English, slightly more hoarse than it had been three and a half hours ago. Onstage, Vlad had been slightly less active than a cat with St Vitus' Dance that had been pumped full of caffeine. Dave had been content to stand at one side, headbanging.
"Ve haff to do zat again. Zat voss blotty amazink!"
"Vlad, I advise you not to wear leather next time. It gets a bit too hot when you're that active. All your makeup is running," said Sarah. "You should wear an oil based one, then it won't run as much."
"Excuse me? You the band?"
"If you're going to complain, no," Dave said, turning. "If, however, you want to give us large amounts of money, then yes."
"Close," said the girl who had approached them. "My uncle runs a club near hear. Phone this number and tell him Steph told you to," she informed them, handing a card to Dave. "I'll warn him first. What's your name and whose band is it?"
"It's D-"
It's not my band. It's your band, Dave told him mentally.
You liar! It is yours.
No! Just watching you tonight I can see you're better at frontmanning than I am. I'm just good at playing. Anything.
"It's my band," Gendo told Steph. "We don't have a name yet."
"Fine. I'll tell my uncle you're calling."
"Well, we'll need songs," said Dave later that night. "We can't just do covers. We'll need at least forty-five minutes of our own stuff. I have three songs, at…fifteen minutes, maybe more if Vlad does a long solo."
"I haff two sonks. Um, ten minutes total."
"I can write one. I've got a few ideas," Sarah told them.
"Same here. At stretch."
"Well, we need at least another ten minutes of music, unless either of you does a Free Bird. What about a name? What are our songs called? We can make it eponymous." Vlad's were "Dark Sun Rising" and "Paranoid Insomniac." Dave's were "Birth of a God," "One-winged Angel" and "I Want You to Know." Sarah's best partially-complete song was called "In Love's Heat." Gendo couldn't think of a title, or, even, much of a song.
"Well, what do you say we call ourselves Dark Sun? Then we can play Dark Sun Rising right away?" Everyone agreed. "Great, I'll phone in the morning."
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Keep reading. I was gonna do an extra bit at the end her, but decided it would be better at the start of the next chapter. Dark Sun are going to play a big part in this fic – not only will it be a theatre-scene replacement, instead of the stage performances of the games, but certain things in later chapters couldn't happen without them. Read on…
