Making the Band
by Pales Megami (Lady_Ako@hotmail.com)
A/N: Good lord. How long has it been-- five months? Six months? In all honestly, I completely forgot about this fic, and all other fics I had in progress. A hellish Junior year can do that to people XP This fic probably would have sat in perpetual hiatus had I not gotten this sudden spat of incredibly nice, extremely encouraging reviews. All those nice comments and words of encouragement made me feel so guilty, I finished this chapter, which is dedicated to all you wonderful reviewers, in four days. And I made it extra long for you guys, too :) Thanks so much to all those who reviewed, and kept this fic alive. Never again will it go neglected. Let's all hear it for PMS! XD XD Keep the reviews coming, and the song suggestions flowing. Let's see just how badly we can torture these poor boys D
Disclaimer: Usual disclaimers apply. All songs and lyrics belong to their respectful owners, which do not belong to me either. Chapter title from the song by Guniw Tools. And I *still* have no money. Damn.
Chapter 5 -- Hush and Cool
-------------------------
The heavy crashes and occasional screams could mean only one thing: A certain pink-haired someone was coming. In unison, the now very exhausted, very sweaty members of Pathos Missing Starfish turned their heads to the dressing room door; they braced themselves for the impending explosion. Stories of Shindou Shuichi's legendary limitless energy had long since spread to all corners of Japan, haunting children and adults alike with an intensity of which the Boogieman could only dream.
"HI GUYS!!!!" The door crashed open, no doubt leaving a sizeable dent in the wall. A ball of pink immediately burst inot the closet/dressing room, draggin behind it its sulky blonde boytoy.
/Ah. Poster-boy at last./
//Ohmygodit'shimwhatdoIsayDarkhelpit'shimohmygod!//
"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!!!!" Shuichi squealed, face all a-glow. "You guys were soooooo awesome!! I loved it!! Yuki, Yuki!" Shuichi grabbed his boytoy's arm, tugging him forward. "This is them! It's Pathos Missing Starfish! Guys, this is Yuki Eiri. He's he novelist, I'm *sure* you've heard of him!!"
Yuki took a long drag of his cigarette, rolling his eyes. "That's enough, Shuichi. The last thing these boys want to deal with right now is your obnoxiousness." He blew a ring of smoke in response to Shuichi's indignant splutters. "We're going home now. Unless you want to walk back."
"Oh, nononononono!!" Shuichi whimpered. "Yuki, you're so mean today!! I'll see you guys later we *have* to hang out sometime maybe we'll see each other in the studio tomorrow Seguchi-san said--" Shuichi's non-stop babble was pushed out the room by the blonde boytoy, who gave a brief nod and "Nice meeting you" before heading out himself. Just as he stepped through the doorway, he stopped.
"By the way," drawled Yuki from the doorframe. "Did you know that if you abbreviated your band name, it would be--"
"Yuuuuuuki~!"
"God dammnit, you little brat, you're sleeping on the couch tonight," the novelist snarled under his breath, and shut the door with a snap.
The five-minute whirlwind that passed left a heavy silence in the room. Shuichi's energy seemed to have zapped all will to move or speak. Good lord, Dark sighed to himself. And *that* as the monstrosity they were supposed to protect? The mission just got *that* much worse...
"Well," he said finally. "I guess that means bad news for Kraddie-kins, then."
"Watch your mouth, asshole," snapped Krad. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Yuki."
"So?"
"So, it looks like you're not the Hot Blonde Bombshell of Sex anymore. Too bad."
The ride back to the hotel was not pleasant at all.
*~*~
Krad leaned his head against the window-- a halo of platinum blonde glaring over the sleepy traffic ten stories below. He imagined himself gathering a humongous ball of energy and hurling it at the sun. Then the stupid sun would stop fucking shining right in his eyes-- *plus* everyone would be dead, thus unable to make him do stupid things. Yeah. That'll show them. Teach them not to make Krad do stupid things... The homicidal blonde decided the universe was conspiring against him. It was *so* unfair.
"Tell me again," he growled, "why we're sitting in this office right now?"
Manx threw him an exasperated look. "Honestly, Krad, we told you. Seguchi Tohma wanted an appointment with us, and it's very important that we make it. I'm almost certain he wants to negotiate a contract with us."
"Oh. I'm so sorry. I must not have been clear." Krad sighed, silently cursing the conspiratory universe. "By 'right now,' I *really* meant 'at five FUCKING thirty in the FUCKING MORNING.'"
"You know, I'd rather like to know that myself," yawned a tousle-haired Satoshi. "Why *are* we here so early in the morning?"
It had taken twenty hired bodyguiards, ten Kritiker agents, and all four Weiss assassins to fight off the fangirl mass after the concert. A few dozen more agents were stationed around the band's hotel room-- thirty-seven unconcious fangirls were found in the bushes the next morning. Manx thought she'd seen it all: Swordfights, giant tentacula plants, gunfights, human chess, people-hunting... Nothing she'd faced with Weiss, however, could match the horror of the hell after the concert. Fangirls... She shuddered involuntarily. And a whole *mass* of them? Her skin crawled at the memory. And *that* was what they had to face after every single concert? The mission just got *that* much worse.
Not quite recovered from her brush with the ultimate terror and eager to avoid it, Manx woke her still-exhausted band at four in the morning. They were shuffled off into pre-hired taxis, Kritiker agents at the ready the entire time. They probably wouldn't score high points with Seguchi appearance or mood wise-- Krad was spewing profanities by the buckets and Satoshi looked like a zombie fresh out of the grave-- but Seguchi signed bands based on talent. And they *would* be signed, Manx was positive of it. They had to be. Or else.
"Um. Because there would have been a long wait, and we should see Seguchi as soon as possible," she half-lied.
"But, Manx--" Daisuke's ever-innocent eyes were wide as saucers. Puffy, sleep-deprived saucers. "It's not like we have anything planned for today anyway, right?"
"Oh, hush, you." She spoke in a tone harsher than she meant, but she really didn't want to drag the issue out anymore. She never was a good liar, anyway. Ken and Omi had been very firm about keeping the band's immediate fandom as covert as possible, and, in retrospect, she whole-heartedly agreed. It didn't take more than a few hours with the group to get the idea of each boy's nature and personality. For example: The impending knowledge that dirty yaoi stories about the band members would be popping up on the web probably wouldn't bode well for nerves as fragile (and obliviously innocent) as Daisuke the Pure's... or tempers as flammable as Krad the Eternally Pissed Off's, either. Satoshi probably would have retained his cold, apathetic facade. As for Dark-- well. Dark would have thoroughly enjoyed the fandom so much, he'd forget all about the mission and launch his own solo career a la Gackt.
"Manx? Is there a Ms. Manx here?" A sharply dressed secretary suddenly appeared in the waiting room, clipboard in her hand. Manx rose and motioned for the others to do the same.
"Yes, that would be me. And this is the band Seguchi Tohma wanted to meet with."
"Ah, yes..." The secretary consulted her clipboard. "Pathos Missing Starfish. Very well. Follow me, please."
/This Seguchi Tohma guy seems like one hell of a hotshot/ mused Dark as the group followed its escort. Indeed, the halls they passed through were floored with expensive-looking Italian rugging and lit with small crystal lamps. Here and there, a chic piece of furniture-- end tables, random chairs that looked too fancy to sit on-- dotted the silver-tinted walls. NG Studios may as well have been Seguchi's own mansion.
//Well, he *was* part of Nittle Grasper. *And* he owns all those popular bands and stuff.//
/I bet he's never gotten laid in his life./
//Dark!// Daisuke blushed like a flaming sunset. //He's *married*!//
/... And your point is...?/
The mental squabble was interrupted by what sounded like someone attempting to gun down a fly buzzing around room. Both Manx and her band hesitated, wary of being shot full of bullets by a mysterious mass murderer, the secretary calmy proceeded towards a door at the end of the hallway.
"Here you are!" she twittered above the sound of more gunfire. "Seguchi Tohma is in here and expecting you."
"And waiting behind that door to machine gun the hell out of us, I expect," breathed Krad bitterly.
"She could at least have given us helmets," sighed Manx, and wrenched open the door.
Had they been anyone else, Pathos Missing Starfish and manager would be appeared in tomorrow morning's obituaries. Cause of death: Machine-gunned the hell out of by a trigger-happy bonde American.
"FUCK!" Krad exposited from somewhere on the floor. Daring to glare out from beneath his arms, he came face to face with a pair of shiny brown shoes. His eyes glared upward, up, up-- and finally met those of Super Manager K, highly-polished magnum in his arms.
"Welcome!" bellowed K, reloading his gun. "You must be the new band. Come in, come in! What are you all doing on the floor?"
Nobody seemed quite sure how to reply. "Because you're going to blow our heads off, you homicidal freak" didn't seem too appropriate. Dumb-struck, and just slightly shaken up, the five would-be victims slowly peeled themselves from off the floor.
"Tut, tut, K." All attention was turned to the swivel chair in the center of the room, its back facing the door. "Now really. That's no way to greet our guests, now, is it?"
//Lookie, Kradders. Your American homicidal soulmate.//
"Thank you, Ms. Manx, for meeting with me today. I'm very excited about negotiating with you--" The chair squeaked as its occupant turned to face its audience-- "and I look forward to working with you and your band."
Seguchi Tohma was *not* was Manx had envisioned. She was expecting a Godfather-esque figure planted in that chair; the Seguchi of her mind wore ruby rings, stroked a fat cat that never left his lap, and whacked people with lacquered walking sticks. The Seguchi of her mind definitely did *not* look not a day older than twelve.
"Um--" C'mon, Manx, pull yourself together. The mission! "Yes. Thank you very much, Seguchi-san. It is a great honor for us to be here, and I sincerely hope we will arrive at agreeable terms for both parties."
Seguchi quirked a smile. "Well said, Ms. Manx, thank you. Now, then... If you'll take a seat, we can discuss a possible contract between NG Studios and your band?"
/*That* is Seguchi Tohma?!/
//I guess so...//
-He looks younger than I do.-
/I wonder how many birds died to make that jacket./
=Eighty.=
-Sixty-six.-
/A hundred and ten. Daisuke, would you like to place your bet?/
//... NO.//
*~*~
Seguchi Tohma's cherubic face maintained a steady, unreadable expression as he watched his newly signed talent file out of his office. He didn't even bat an eyelid when K cocked his gun and sidled out of what seemed like nowhere.
"You're sure about this new band, then."
Seguchi fingered the fringe of his much-debated jacket. "Absolutely. You saw them yourself, K-san. Talented, yougn... and good looking." He chuckled. "We've just been guaranteed the money of every adolescent girl in Japan."
"And you're not letting me manage them," pouted K.
"In time, K-san. In time. By the way..."
"Yes?"
"Did you notice that if you abbreviate their band name--"
"*Yes*."
*~*~
Daisuke tried his best not to sit too close to Manx, regarding her with a wary eye. His now official manager was rubbing her hands together a little *too* gleefully, her smile a little toothier than was normal. Perhaps it was an assassin thing. Having never odone this sort of thing before, Daisuke wouldn't really know the rush of a mission running smoothly. As far as he was concerned, all that really mattered to *him* was that he'd at least make enough money to pay for a tuition to Tokyo University. ... And that he wouldn't have to go on any more museum escapades. Yeah. Things were *definitely* looking up.
The taxi ride back home-- *home* home-- was sleepy and silent. The only words spoken were Manx's, telling the group that Weiss would be at Daisuke's house for a debriefing, and their luggage would be sent along in a separate taxi. The exhaustion level was at the point where nobody really gave a rat's ass what happened to their luggage. The news of a debriefing didn't sit well with any of the band members, but noobyd dared argue with a Manx whose eyes didn't just glint, but *gleamed*.
"Well, fuck," Dark grunted as the taxi pulled into the Niwa driveway. "I'd almost forgotten what our house looked like."
"Do you think Mom was really worried about us?" squeaked Daisuke as he scrambled out of the taxi.
"Nah. Just a little," answered Dark, and pointed at a flailing Emi rushing out the front door.
It took many soothing reassurances and more stern Looks on Manx's part to pry Emi off her son. She latched onto his arm, crying and scolding, and followed the group inside the house. After being told the debriefing was "members only and highly classified," she bustled around the kitchen preparing a huffy lunch. The four Weiss assassins were already seated around the table; Yohji did his best to appear as inconspicuous as possible. Satoshi had told him secretly that he'd seen Krad's shit list, and that the playboy still reigned as king at the top. With a star next to his name. Sure enough, Krad seated himself directly opposite him, and spent the entire meeting throwing him glares of the very deepest loathing.
"Ahem. Well!" Omi beamed around the table once everyone had settled down. "I heard you guys were successful in signing a deal. Well done, everyone!"
"Yeah, great job, guys," grinned Ken. "We watched the concert on T.V. We were impressed."
"All in a day's work." Dark yawned loudly and rubbed his watering eyes. "So, what's next? What do we do now that we're in?"
"Well, the biggest challenges now are your upcoming record deal and concert. Seguchi wants you to start immediately-- the concert is in two weeks with Bad Luck, and the record deadline is a week after that."
"That shouldn't be a problem," said Ken thoughtfully. "Everything's already been planned out. They'll have plenty of time to do all the snooping they want. Now, then," he continued briskly, tossing four packets of music onto the table. "Take a look at these songs. They need to be *perfect* for the party on Friday."
"Party? Friday?" Satoshi peered at the ex-soccer player from over his glasses. "I don't believe we were every informed of a party that is in four days."
"Party. This Friday. Four days. Okay?" Manx said grumpily. "Now you know. Like Ken said, it has to be *perfect*. If you don't impress Hiro, Suguru, Shuichi, *and* his boytoy... Just.. just do it."
"Or else?"
"Exactly."
by Pales Megami (Lady_Ako@hotmail.com)
A/N: Good lord. How long has it been-- five months? Six months? In all honestly, I completely forgot about this fic, and all other fics I had in progress. A hellish Junior year can do that to people XP This fic probably would have sat in perpetual hiatus had I not gotten this sudden spat of incredibly nice, extremely encouraging reviews. All those nice comments and words of encouragement made me feel so guilty, I finished this chapter, which is dedicated to all you wonderful reviewers, in four days. And I made it extra long for you guys, too :) Thanks so much to all those who reviewed, and kept this fic alive. Never again will it go neglected. Let's all hear it for PMS! XD XD Keep the reviews coming, and the song suggestions flowing. Let's see just how badly we can torture these poor boys D
Disclaimer: Usual disclaimers apply. All songs and lyrics belong to their respectful owners, which do not belong to me either. Chapter title from the song by Guniw Tools. And I *still* have no money. Damn.
Chapter 5 -- Hush and Cool
-------------------------
The heavy crashes and occasional screams could mean only one thing: A certain pink-haired someone was coming. In unison, the now very exhausted, very sweaty members of Pathos Missing Starfish turned their heads to the dressing room door; they braced themselves for the impending explosion. Stories of Shindou Shuichi's legendary limitless energy had long since spread to all corners of Japan, haunting children and adults alike with an intensity of which the Boogieman could only dream.
"HI GUYS!!!!" The door crashed open, no doubt leaving a sizeable dent in the wall. A ball of pink immediately burst inot the closet/dressing room, draggin behind it its sulky blonde boytoy.
/Ah. Poster-boy at last./
//Ohmygodit'shimwhatdoIsayDarkhelpit'shimohmygod!//
"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!!!!" Shuichi squealed, face all a-glow. "You guys were soooooo awesome!! I loved it!! Yuki, Yuki!" Shuichi grabbed his boytoy's arm, tugging him forward. "This is them! It's Pathos Missing Starfish! Guys, this is Yuki Eiri. He's he novelist, I'm *sure* you've heard of him!!"
Yuki took a long drag of his cigarette, rolling his eyes. "That's enough, Shuichi. The last thing these boys want to deal with right now is your obnoxiousness." He blew a ring of smoke in response to Shuichi's indignant splutters. "We're going home now. Unless you want to walk back."
"Oh, nononononono!!" Shuichi whimpered. "Yuki, you're so mean today!! I'll see you guys later we *have* to hang out sometime maybe we'll see each other in the studio tomorrow Seguchi-san said--" Shuichi's non-stop babble was pushed out the room by the blonde boytoy, who gave a brief nod and "Nice meeting you" before heading out himself. Just as he stepped through the doorway, he stopped.
"By the way," drawled Yuki from the doorframe. "Did you know that if you abbreviated your band name, it would be--"
"Yuuuuuuki~!"
"God dammnit, you little brat, you're sleeping on the couch tonight," the novelist snarled under his breath, and shut the door with a snap.
The five-minute whirlwind that passed left a heavy silence in the room. Shuichi's energy seemed to have zapped all will to move or speak. Good lord, Dark sighed to himself. And *that* as the monstrosity they were supposed to protect? The mission just got *that* much worse...
"Well," he said finally. "I guess that means bad news for Kraddie-kins, then."
"Watch your mouth, asshole," snapped Krad. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Yuki."
"So?"
"So, it looks like you're not the Hot Blonde Bombshell of Sex anymore. Too bad."
The ride back to the hotel was not pleasant at all.
*~*~
Krad leaned his head against the window-- a halo of platinum blonde glaring over the sleepy traffic ten stories below. He imagined himself gathering a humongous ball of energy and hurling it at the sun. Then the stupid sun would stop fucking shining right in his eyes-- *plus* everyone would be dead, thus unable to make him do stupid things. Yeah. That'll show them. Teach them not to make Krad do stupid things... The homicidal blonde decided the universe was conspiring against him. It was *so* unfair.
"Tell me again," he growled, "why we're sitting in this office right now?"
Manx threw him an exasperated look. "Honestly, Krad, we told you. Seguchi Tohma wanted an appointment with us, and it's very important that we make it. I'm almost certain he wants to negotiate a contract with us."
"Oh. I'm so sorry. I must not have been clear." Krad sighed, silently cursing the conspiratory universe. "By 'right now,' I *really* meant 'at five FUCKING thirty in the FUCKING MORNING.'"
"You know, I'd rather like to know that myself," yawned a tousle-haired Satoshi. "Why *are* we here so early in the morning?"
It had taken twenty hired bodyguiards, ten Kritiker agents, and all four Weiss assassins to fight off the fangirl mass after the concert. A few dozen more agents were stationed around the band's hotel room-- thirty-seven unconcious fangirls were found in the bushes the next morning. Manx thought she'd seen it all: Swordfights, giant tentacula plants, gunfights, human chess, people-hunting... Nothing she'd faced with Weiss, however, could match the horror of the hell after the concert. Fangirls... She shuddered involuntarily. And a whole *mass* of them? Her skin crawled at the memory. And *that* was what they had to face after every single concert? The mission just got *that* much worse.
Not quite recovered from her brush with the ultimate terror and eager to avoid it, Manx woke her still-exhausted band at four in the morning. They were shuffled off into pre-hired taxis, Kritiker agents at the ready the entire time. They probably wouldn't score high points with Seguchi appearance or mood wise-- Krad was spewing profanities by the buckets and Satoshi looked like a zombie fresh out of the grave-- but Seguchi signed bands based on talent. And they *would* be signed, Manx was positive of it. They had to be. Or else.
"Um. Because there would have been a long wait, and we should see Seguchi as soon as possible," she half-lied.
"But, Manx--" Daisuke's ever-innocent eyes were wide as saucers. Puffy, sleep-deprived saucers. "It's not like we have anything planned for today anyway, right?"
"Oh, hush, you." She spoke in a tone harsher than she meant, but she really didn't want to drag the issue out anymore. She never was a good liar, anyway. Ken and Omi had been very firm about keeping the band's immediate fandom as covert as possible, and, in retrospect, she whole-heartedly agreed. It didn't take more than a few hours with the group to get the idea of each boy's nature and personality. For example: The impending knowledge that dirty yaoi stories about the band members would be popping up on the web probably wouldn't bode well for nerves as fragile (and obliviously innocent) as Daisuke the Pure's... or tempers as flammable as Krad the Eternally Pissed Off's, either. Satoshi probably would have retained his cold, apathetic facade. As for Dark-- well. Dark would have thoroughly enjoyed the fandom so much, he'd forget all about the mission and launch his own solo career a la Gackt.
"Manx? Is there a Ms. Manx here?" A sharply dressed secretary suddenly appeared in the waiting room, clipboard in her hand. Manx rose and motioned for the others to do the same.
"Yes, that would be me. And this is the band Seguchi Tohma wanted to meet with."
"Ah, yes..." The secretary consulted her clipboard. "Pathos Missing Starfish. Very well. Follow me, please."
/This Seguchi Tohma guy seems like one hell of a hotshot/ mused Dark as the group followed its escort. Indeed, the halls they passed through were floored with expensive-looking Italian rugging and lit with small crystal lamps. Here and there, a chic piece of furniture-- end tables, random chairs that looked too fancy to sit on-- dotted the silver-tinted walls. NG Studios may as well have been Seguchi's own mansion.
//Well, he *was* part of Nittle Grasper. *And* he owns all those popular bands and stuff.//
/I bet he's never gotten laid in his life./
//Dark!// Daisuke blushed like a flaming sunset. //He's *married*!//
/... And your point is...?/
The mental squabble was interrupted by what sounded like someone attempting to gun down a fly buzzing around room. Both Manx and her band hesitated, wary of being shot full of bullets by a mysterious mass murderer, the secretary calmy proceeded towards a door at the end of the hallway.
"Here you are!" she twittered above the sound of more gunfire. "Seguchi Tohma is in here and expecting you."
"And waiting behind that door to machine gun the hell out of us, I expect," breathed Krad bitterly.
"She could at least have given us helmets," sighed Manx, and wrenched open the door.
Had they been anyone else, Pathos Missing Starfish and manager would be appeared in tomorrow morning's obituaries. Cause of death: Machine-gunned the hell out of by a trigger-happy bonde American.
"FUCK!" Krad exposited from somewhere on the floor. Daring to glare out from beneath his arms, he came face to face with a pair of shiny brown shoes. His eyes glared upward, up, up-- and finally met those of Super Manager K, highly-polished magnum in his arms.
"Welcome!" bellowed K, reloading his gun. "You must be the new band. Come in, come in! What are you all doing on the floor?"
Nobody seemed quite sure how to reply. "Because you're going to blow our heads off, you homicidal freak" didn't seem too appropriate. Dumb-struck, and just slightly shaken up, the five would-be victims slowly peeled themselves from off the floor.
"Tut, tut, K." All attention was turned to the swivel chair in the center of the room, its back facing the door. "Now really. That's no way to greet our guests, now, is it?"
//Lookie, Kradders. Your American homicidal soulmate.//
"Thank you, Ms. Manx, for meeting with me today. I'm very excited about negotiating with you--" The chair squeaked as its occupant turned to face its audience-- "and I look forward to working with you and your band."
Seguchi Tohma was *not* was Manx had envisioned. She was expecting a Godfather-esque figure planted in that chair; the Seguchi of her mind wore ruby rings, stroked a fat cat that never left his lap, and whacked people with lacquered walking sticks. The Seguchi of her mind definitely did *not* look not a day older than twelve.
"Um--" C'mon, Manx, pull yourself together. The mission! "Yes. Thank you very much, Seguchi-san. It is a great honor for us to be here, and I sincerely hope we will arrive at agreeable terms for both parties."
Seguchi quirked a smile. "Well said, Ms. Manx, thank you. Now, then... If you'll take a seat, we can discuss a possible contract between NG Studios and your band?"
/*That* is Seguchi Tohma?!/
//I guess so...//
-He looks younger than I do.-
/I wonder how many birds died to make that jacket./
=Eighty.=
-Sixty-six.-
/A hundred and ten. Daisuke, would you like to place your bet?/
//... NO.//
*~*~
Seguchi Tohma's cherubic face maintained a steady, unreadable expression as he watched his newly signed talent file out of his office. He didn't even bat an eyelid when K cocked his gun and sidled out of what seemed like nowhere.
"You're sure about this new band, then."
Seguchi fingered the fringe of his much-debated jacket. "Absolutely. You saw them yourself, K-san. Talented, yougn... and good looking." He chuckled. "We've just been guaranteed the money of every adolescent girl in Japan."
"And you're not letting me manage them," pouted K.
"In time, K-san. In time. By the way..."
"Yes?"
"Did you notice that if you abbreviate their band name--"
"*Yes*."
*~*~
Daisuke tried his best not to sit too close to Manx, regarding her with a wary eye. His now official manager was rubbing her hands together a little *too* gleefully, her smile a little toothier than was normal. Perhaps it was an assassin thing. Having never odone this sort of thing before, Daisuke wouldn't really know the rush of a mission running smoothly. As far as he was concerned, all that really mattered to *him* was that he'd at least make enough money to pay for a tuition to Tokyo University. ... And that he wouldn't have to go on any more museum escapades. Yeah. Things were *definitely* looking up.
The taxi ride back home-- *home* home-- was sleepy and silent. The only words spoken were Manx's, telling the group that Weiss would be at Daisuke's house for a debriefing, and their luggage would be sent along in a separate taxi. The exhaustion level was at the point where nobody really gave a rat's ass what happened to their luggage. The news of a debriefing didn't sit well with any of the band members, but noobyd dared argue with a Manx whose eyes didn't just glint, but *gleamed*.
"Well, fuck," Dark grunted as the taxi pulled into the Niwa driveway. "I'd almost forgotten what our house looked like."
"Do you think Mom was really worried about us?" squeaked Daisuke as he scrambled out of the taxi.
"Nah. Just a little," answered Dark, and pointed at a flailing Emi rushing out the front door.
It took many soothing reassurances and more stern Looks on Manx's part to pry Emi off her son. She latched onto his arm, crying and scolding, and followed the group inside the house. After being told the debriefing was "members only and highly classified," she bustled around the kitchen preparing a huffy lunch. The four Weiss assassins were already seated around the table; Yohji did his best to appear as inconspicuous as possible. Satoshi had told him secretly that he'd seen Krad's shit list, and that the playboy still reigned as king at the top. With a star next to his name. Sure enough, Krad seated himself directly opposite him, and spent the entire meeting throwing him glares of the very deepest loathing.
"Ahem. Well!" Omi beamed around the table once everyone had settled down. "I heard you guys were successful in signing a deal. Well done, everyone!"
"Yeah, great job, guys," grinned Ken. "We watched the concert on T.V. We were impressed."
"All in a day's work." Dark yawned loudly and rubbed his watering eyes. "So, what's next? What do we do now that we're in?"
"Well, the biggest challenges now are your upcoming record deal and concert. Seguchi wants you to start immediately-- the concert is in two weeks with Bad Luck, and the record deadline is a week after that."
"That shouldn't be a problem," said Ken thoughtfully. "Everything's already been planned out. They'll have plenty of time to do all the snooping they want. Now, then," he continued briskly, tossing four packets of music onto the table. "Take a look at these songs. They need to be *perfect* for the party on Friday."
"Party? Friday?" Satoshi peered at the ex-soccer player from over his glasses. "I don't believe we were every informed of a party that is in four days."
"Party. This Friday. Four days. Okay?" Manx said grumpily. "Now you know. Like Ken said, it has to be *perfect*. If you don't impress Hiro, Suguru, Shuichi, *and* his boytoy... Just.. just do it."
"Or else?"
"Exactly."