The Young Musicians show is an annual event that all people of Japan, young and old, come to attend every summer. It is a festival of talent that is supreme in its ability to attract crowds of all sorts, not to mention drawn over three adrenalin-filled days (always starting on a Friday). Each band and soloist is highly competitive with the other—every contestant able to swear to having worked all his life just to be in it. This year's event was shown to be promising—the ads distributed around the country highlighted that there were to be two hundred and thirty-three musicians showing up and giving all they had on stage. They would receive thunderous applause if they were any good, then wait in anxiety—would a contractor come up to them and sign them up for a gig? After all, this was the premiere event for all serious young musicians. If a person was born with a natural beat, breathed for music, lived for music, and died for music—and had a natural ability to make it all look good—well, this was certainly an excellent start for the musician. For, indeed, there was no better time to get hooked up with a music agent and be told that he had promise, and would be a big star in the music field some day. All musicians would die for the words: "Music is yours, baby. Come with me and we'll work for riches beyond your wildest fantasies." It is the dream, the goal, the ambition that all people who sing or play have, and once they hear this speech or something similar to it, they give a shout, dance a crazy jig of happiness, and faint. It happened all the time. They could die with a smile on their face.
Another thrilling aspect about the Young Musicians event is the fanatic, worshipping fans that a musician or group could acquire—especially if the members are talented, carefree, and attractive. The best example any citizen in Japan could give of the perfect band would be to point out that year a group of five exotically handsome teenage boys posed as singing vampires. Each had their faces painted a beautiful, luminous white; each had his eyes rimmed with dark eyeshadow, and each young man's lips gleamed a pale pink that fans openly yearned to kiss. When they opened their mouths, tiny, perfect fangs could be wooed over, and all the more glamorous about this were the small, quick tongues that slid invitingly over and under the convincing vampiric teeth. And because they had such straight, perfect noses and shoulder-length, jet-black hair, and because their voices seemed to drip with melancholy beauty, nearly all of the screaming, mad teenage girls (and of course, some boys) packed in the Young Musicians stadium were swooning with delight and desire over these seemingly ethereal boys. The girls up close to the stage reached out their arms and hands to touch the velvety softness of the black cape that swirled with a life of its own around each vampire boy, and these girls were the first ones to faint in ecstasy. The Vampyres' (as they were called) combined voices resonated with the sounds of heaven on earth, of mist in the morning air, of soft waves rolling in the sea—with the same promise of uncontrollable power underneath. Their first live performance was received with cheering that could be heard miles around, and upon receiving a dynamic standing ovation with roses and stuffed animals thrown at them, the Vampyres, inexperienced in receiving such acclamation, beamed proudly and with a childlike wonder at their popularity, which of course helped to increase it. Everyone cheered for more, but the young teenagers had tears in their eyes and their throats had closed up with affection and pride, and they could sing no more that day. They were immediately signed up to make their own CD, and each were paid with a total of 1.6 million dollars their first year of professional singing. Such instant success was yet to be rivaled.
No other group of musicians had ever achieved such high fame as they did, nor so quickly, and they went unchallenged as the Teenage Musicians Of All Time. Of course, no other musician had such angelic faces or so deep and melancholy voices; and all musicians were jealous of the swooning girls that kissed the very ground these musical Vampyres tread upon. It had, in fact, become a tradition over the years to respect these five boys as the very best, and they achieved almost hero-like status from the majority of teenage musicians. This lasted for seven blissful years, so of course, after all sorts of luxury and love that these boys, now between the ages of twenty-one and twenty-five, had achieved, each had grown in him a hubris that consumed him. By the time they had been embraced around the world for their brilliance and gained fans of every ethnicity, they actually believed—nay, expected—that the world revolved around them. This caused much complaint among the parents of many young fans, and an uneasy feeling to the occasional non-fan when he bumped into one of them and did not immediately grovel on the floor for them.
"Sure they're good," one man from a well-read magazine once dared to write, "but they won't last long much longer, what with their attitude nowadays. A true musician cares only for his music, not the riches that could be heaped upon that musician because of his talent—or, in this case, for being pretty." The author of this article mysteriously disappeared after this was published, and the Vampyres never smiled so sweetly, posing for photographers.
As a sign of goodwill to all musicians this year, and this year only, the Vampyres were rumored to be coming to the first day of the show to shake hands with each musician and fan. Later they would give a short but "inspiring" speech, but they refused to sign autographs (more than one jokingly complained of telling signs of carpel tunnel syndrome). Perhaps this was why the turnout for this year's Young Musicians had been so impressive, and many musicians, aspiring as well as professional, touched clammy hands to their temples before bowing deeply in respect and fear whenever they happened to see one of these Vampyres. These boys-turned-men were their heroes—lifelong dreams could be seen with sparkling clarity when looking into the eyes of a Vampyre. All musicians waited anxiously to shake their hands.
All musicians save three.
These boys were sixteen-year-olds, both handsome in face and serious in expression. They wore, in unison, stylish light-gray suits with black silk ties and pearl-colored shirts. Something notable about them were their eyes; it seemed that they held a great depth of knowledge in them, and their hair; each tied up his thigh-length hair in a ponytail whose strands, in the warm spring breeze, flowed and circled about their necks and arms with grace. One of these boys, whose name is Kou Yaten, squinted to see the face of the leader of the Vampyres. He said, disgustedly, "They're musicians? Pa-the-tic."
Kou Taiki, the tallest of the bunch with deep brown hair and patient, violet eyes agreed, remarking, "They look more like models for a This-is-the-consequence-of-drinking-and-driving publicity stunt than anything else."
The last of the boys, Seiya, who had a high forehead and the unlucky gift of devious cunning, laughed, and slapped both Yaten and Taiki on the back. "Then we agree that their egos are as bad as their music," he said.
"Really," Yaten drawled, "just look at them! They look like the walking dead. And what's so good about their music anyway? It's all so melancholy and sad and evil. Don't they know what the meaning of life is?"
"Well, they sure don't know what the meaning of music is," said Seiya, laughing again in high humor.
Yaten and Taiki, still obsessed with the Vampyres, were spying and mocking the music group when Seiya suddenly excused himself. "I feel a bit nervous," he said, "about going up on stage. I've never really sung with thousands of people in front of me before. I'm gonna look around and try to shake off this uneasy feeling I have."
Taiki frowned, saying, "That's a good idea. Just don't get yourself lost."
Walking away, Seiya called out, "But it's my specialty, darling. I'm just so darn good at it."
Yaten yelled, "Meet us in our rehearsal room, else I'll skin ya alive!!" But his admonishment was wasted; Seiya had already disappeared.
Had the leader of The Three Lights stayed to spy and mock the Vampyres with his comrades, Yaten would never have gotten himself into trouble. So into the nasty makeup of the great musicians a roguish idea was conceived in his mischievous head, and his emerald eyes sparkled with a cunning look. Telling Taiki to stay put until he got back from the restrooms, he pushed his way through a large crowd to one of the Vampyres and said in a sweet but resounding voice, "Bite me."
He planned to lure the Vampyre out of his cocoon of contemptible manners, and reveal the formidable musician's true character to his doting fans. But, as happened often with Yaten due to his impetuosity, it was too little too soon.
The Vampyre, whose name is Ryo, thought that Yaten was a female fan, and said, raising an eyebrow, "Sorry, girl. I don't do autographs." When Yaten fumed at this, coloring in the cheeks from this piercing belittlement, Ryo took notice and looked closer at the "girl."
"Oh, my!" he laughed. "You're not a girl!" And so loud was his exclamation that many people turned to stare curiously at Yaten.
All Yaten's rage seemed to ball up into his fist, and his eyes suddenly flared with green fire. Ryo took a step back, for he had rarely seen anyone look at him the way this small boy did, but he was too slow. Yaten swiveled at the hip, dealing a practiced blow at the bigger man, and split the Vampyre's lower lip.
There, Yaten thought in satisfaction. There is the first step to The Three Lights' fame.
Angered by this action, Ryo snarled at the boy. He felt the blood trickle down his chin, and heard the people all around gasping in shock, but he did not care to hide the danger in his eyes. But, a practiced performer now, he acted with precision and a theatrical flare. Raising his upper lip, and suddenly looking very much like an angry, growling wolf, he slicked his tongue over the surface of his teeth. He smiled, but by doing so only split his lip more, so that the blood gushed anew. Though it was painful to him, Ryo smiled even more menacingly, and almost like a caress, his tongue slid from his teeth to the blood, and he slowly licked his lips. Yaten suddenly felt something akin to yearning deep inside grab a hold of him. Even without the makeup, Ryo would still have been beautiful in his own exotic way, and his tongue looked so pink, so wet, so inviting…. What kind of thought was this?
Ryo saw the look that flashed over Yaten's face, and smiled inwardly. This happened all too often. No one—absolutely no one—could resist the charm of a Vampyre. No girl stood a chance… and neither did a boy. He brought a finger to his cut lip and extracted a drop of blood from it. He raised the finger to Yaten's cheek and saw him flinch. But the silver-haired beauty did not back away, so he ran his finger ever so slowly down to the boy's mouth. Yaten did not move—he was too furious to move—how dare this devil incarnate touch him so? There was now a faint trail of blood on the boy's face, and looking at it Ryo suddenly felt like a real vampire. The urge to take the boy into his arms and lick the blood off his cheek was overpowering, and he let out a small gasp. "Who are you," he wondered, not realizing he had voiced his thought.
Yaten hesitated. Why should he tell this man who he was? He felt the warmth of the blood on his cheek, and he shuddered, the chill on his spine intense. This… this Vampyre was… exciting…. But he was not that kind of boy. He regained his composure abruptly, furious for letting himself be tricked in such a way. Handsome or not, exotic or not, the man really had horrendous taste in makeup—even if the sole purpose was to make him look like a Hollywood vampire. "Go to hell," he said, finished with this suddenly boring man, and he turned to walk away.
But Ryo was not done with Yaten yet. Few strangers had ever made him so intrigued, and yet this boy was different. He had that rare spiciness in character that attracted him particularly—and the face of a girl, too. He grabbed Yaten's wrist. "Hey, boy," he said, "it's rude to just walk away from someone like me like that. Apologize."
Yaten remained indifferent. His eyes, calm and cool, showed almost no reaction to Ryo's demand. "Let go," he whispered, threatening. He eyed the crinkle on his perfect suit made by the man's grip, and he wanted to twist his arm free. But that would cause his suit to possibly rip, and of course he wanted none of that. "Let go," he repeated calmly, and raised his eyes, now slanted in warning, to the man.
Ryo's heart seemed to skip a beat. The boy's face, up close, was even more beautiful than any person had a right to possess. Such smooth skin, and the way the boy was looking at him—Ahh, he thought excitedly, he has the makings of a Vampyre! So he cried over the hum of the crowd to the lead vocal of the Vampyres, whom he knew to be nearby, "Sayge! Come over here!"
The first thing Yaten noticed about Sayge was the fine black hair that cascaded down the man's broad shoulders. Each strand moved in elegant harmony with the gentle breeze that filled the late afternoon air of Tokyo, and Yaten involuntarily sighed in amazement. He then looked up at his captor, and wondered what Ryo had in mind to do to him. Ryo was still clutching his wrist, but the grip was neither hard nor painful, and he knew that it was a test to see if he would try to escape. But he would not. He would face down these bullies and teach them the meaning of humility. He stood, proud and angry, and faced the slow-approaching Sayge with all the courage he could muster.
In all the time that Sayge took leisurely strolling over to them, chatting lightly with a girl that had practically draped herself over him—she constantly ran her fingers possessively about his front and back—Ryo stood eyeing the boy whose name he still had no idea. But Sayge would get it out of him—he knew he would, because the guy had a charm that was spellbinding to all people, young or old, male or female. When Sayge was about eight feet away, acting as if he still hadn't noticed Ryo and his prisoner, Ryo could just make out his voice: "… So I was standing near the cart, nice and quiet like, when all of a sudden this big ol' crazy hic jumps onto me, hooks her legs around my waist, and shrieks 'Marry me! Marry me!'—and you should have seen what happened, Yumiko!"
"What? What?" The girl wheezed, her eyes wide.
Sayge took a long, dramatic breath, almost funny in its overdone histrionics. But he continued in a rush, and his voice was now low and serious. "Everyone around us went berserk. I tried to shake her off, but man, she was strong. So what could I do? I ordered my bodyguard to help get her off my back, and the idiot conceived the brilliant idea of finding the biggest stick around and whacking her ass off me."
Yumiko laughed mercilessly in a high-pitched voice. Ryo and Yaten both thought, What a silly girl.
Sayge smiled though. "She came off, but she was still begging me to marry her, so I smacked her across the cheek. She finally comes to, takes one long look at me, grabs my face and gives me a wet one."
"You mean she kissed you?" the girl asked, clearly disgusted. But Sayge's smile only broadened.
"That's right. I ask her for her name, get it, then run like hell." He paused a moment to chuckle. "I can bet you that she must have been shocked outta her panties when, that evening, she received a call from my lawyers accusing her of harassment and demanding trial."
While Yumiko lost control of herself and was laughing (wailing almost) in a high-pitched, hysterical manner, Sayge finally took notice of Ryo. His eyes narrowed appreciatively when he acknowledged Yaten, noting Ryo's protective hold on the boy's wrist and the defiant glare in the boy's eyes. "Well, now," he murmured, smiling like a gentleman. "What have we here, Ryo? Why are you holding hands with this boy as if you two were…?"
Yaten blushed, but in anger, and looked away. Ryo secretively appreciated the fact that the boy did not try to yank his arm free, and said, "He has a great voice. And he looks like one of us, a Vampyre. He'd be an instant hit… I was thinking of adding him to the group, Sayge. What do you think?"
The lead vocal laid his arm around the girl's shoulders and squeezed lightly, to the girl's great pleasure (witnessed by the stars that lit up her gray eyes), then let her go. He stepped up to Yaten and gently took hold of his chin, lifting it so that the boy's face was angled toward his. For a brief moment it looked as if Sayge were going to kiss the boy, and Ryo's brows knotted in an unexpected, confused anxiety. But he only looked into the impenetrable green eyes that were still turned away from him. "Look at me," he murmured gently, his voice deep.
Although gentle, the words were spoken like a command, and Yaten reluctantly swiveled his gaze to meet Sayge's gentle look; he was almost pleasantly surprised to look into eyes as green and bright as his own. "Tell your lackey to release me. He's wrinkled my suit," he commanded of Sayge.
Sayge was taken aback, but he chuckled and gestured with his hand. He was not the only one to notice the reluctance with which Ryo let go of the boy.
"What's wrong with you?" Yumiko demanded haughtily. "Sayge told you to do something…."
Inflamed with anger and embarrassment, Ryo raised his hand to slap her, but Sayge intervened, his lean body coming between Ryo and Yumiko. "Not in front of a crowd, Ryo," he whispered into his ear, and Ryo let his hand drop to his side. His face became emotionless; it was a natural reflex the Vampyres trained themselves to put on whenever something went wrong. But Sayge chucked Ryo lightly across the shoulder and winked, whispering again, "Bad publicity." Ryo only nodded.
Sayge then told the girl to run off. She complied after much whining, but when she finally left, the lead Vampyre turned his attention back to Yaten, who was now standing next to Ryo looking oddly bemused. He pursed his lips and shook his head. Ryo was absolutely correct in that the boy could become a Vampyre. Losing himself in the boy's sparkling eyes was too easy. And he had a good voice, too. Smoky and sexy. But he had to be good in some aspect of musical performance to become a Vampyre. So he said, trying to make his voice sound casual and indifferent, "Are you a fan? Or do you work here?" Yaten shook his head. "So you're in a music group?"
The boy's defiant stance faltered for a fracture of a second, and he looked suspiciously at Sayge. "What does it matter to you?" he asked warily.
"Nothing at all," Sayge returned swiftly. But he eased up. "I confess that you confuse me. Do you not recognize us? Why do you defy me? Do you have no respect for your elders?"
"Disrespecting you seems to me the most logical thing to do in this case," Yaten spat.
Sayge did not want to get angry. But he said in a light tone that (almost) concealed a growing anger, "What is this boy's name, Ryo?"
Ryo shook his head. It was then that Sayge noticed the blood, now dried, on Ryo's lip. Frowning, he turned to look closely at Yaten, and saw the faint blood smear on his cheek. He wanted to laugh. "Got into a fight, did you? Over what?" he asked, not expecting to get an answer.
Yaten jumped at the chance to tell these men off, though, for his mischievousness had returned and he was still a little peeved at Ryo's rudeness, and in white-hot fury he cried, "Why are you trying to take advantage of me? I told you I'm not interested!"—thus distracting Ryo and Sayge, as well as everyone around.
But Yaten had been deceived in thinking that any of these people would help him; as every one of them knew the Vampyres, none of them were willing to get into trouble with them.
Sayge seethed; he said through his teeth, "Ryo. Grab the boy and let's get the hell out of here."
"Right," Ryo affirmed, masking his apprehension and presenting the world with a cool smile to anyone who cared, and before Yaten could protest, both Vampyres had blocked off any chance for escape. Ryo saw Sayge grab the boy's right arm, so he grabbed the other, hooking his elbow loosely with Yaten's. "Come on, boy," he said. They walked off towards the nearest restroom.