Empyrean Rose
by Capella A. Morningside
II: Taki: Supernova
Things were going flawlessly. The receptionist at the front had been too distracted to notice someone with paranoid eyes and a knee-length black coat slinking past the metal detectors, although his attire was meant for otherwise. Leather and studded jewelry adorned most his person in excess... but of course. This was the first and last performance of the solo career of Taki Aizawa; the debut and farewell concert all in one. He had to look as stunning as possible, more god-like and awe-inspiring than even Ryuichi Sakuma.
And it could be black, and only black. An angel of death prepared itself to descend in one long, merciless swoop over the building...
Either it was luck, or Fate was perhaps on his side, that no one recognized the man navigating the halls not through awareness but though memory. No one questioned his presence or even truly gave him a second glance... at one time this would have sparked his anger, but now it worked to his advantage, having been brought down to the status of a nothing had finally paid off.
The elevator rose toward the sky with the feeling of a gentle rise, like being a formless spirit in the process of leaving its earthly body. Taki relished the sensation, tilting his head back, letting his arms go limp and closing his eyes, letting his body be fooled into the dream that he could once again fly, only to be brought back to the cruel reality of his bloody, useless wings by the clear sound of the bell.
The reflective doors slid open, and he found himself at the end of a seemingly endless corridor, decorated only by a false plant here or there, a single bench, and a few second-rate paintings scattered on the walls. Two wooden doors visible, the classic double-door at the end, and a narrower, open door just next to it, on the side of the hall.
Though the hallway was level, if it tilted either up or down it could have given him the impression he was either climbing to the highest of heaven or descending into the deepest reaches of the underworld...
How... exactly like him, Taki mused, remembering to exit the elevator just as the doors nearly shut on him.
With each step, he felt his heart rate increase microscopically more... it would be pounding by the time he reached the end. There was a time when these trips inspired nervousness, fear, but today his only companion on the long walk would be adrenaline, the thrill pumping through his veins with each brutal beat of his heart, combining with the newest crystals within him to give him a feeling unlike any other.
Eternity passed, but none the worse for the wear, he at least was reaching forward, trying to still his trembling hand as he touched the chilly metal...
"Excuse me, sir."
Oh great.
"Do you have an appointment?"
It was a friendly female voice, calling out from the open door to his right. Taki halted, not releasing the door handle just yet, but glaring at her from the corner of his eye. A young, neat woman with short brown hair and wire-framed glasses kept her smile as she watched him, albeit apprehensively, waiting for an answer. When one did not come fast enough, her brows knotted in concern and she urged, lowly, "...sir?"
"No," he replied, in a soft voice. He couldn't let himself be heard before his grand entrance; it would be like looking out at one's audience through the curtain before stepping on stage. He let his hand drop from the door, turning to face her as she stood with desk behind her. "I was summoned here," came the follow-up.
At least it wasn't a complete lie...
His gaze left her, going back to the door, and the only sound that reached him was a quick shuffling. "Name, please?" she prompted, no doubt looking over some piece of paper.
The rapidly-working mind of the addressed presented him with an idea, and he took it. One, two, three large strides, and he was in her office, regarding her with an air of superiority. Those naïve green eyes had finally triggered his memory...
Taki's voice shifted to a tone that had once never failed to get what he wanted out of any woman that came his way. "I don't think he even knows he has summoned me yet, my dear but he has. So if you please, miss... I'd like to just pay my good old friend a visit without any hassle."
The secretary cautiously stepped back from the imposing figure that had just entered her doorway, grasping the edge of her desk, fingers fumbling beneath it in search. "I-I'm sorry sir, but if you're n-not cleared to be-e up here, I'm going to ha-ve to ask y-you to leave."
A low, disturbed laugh from the man. "No."
The fervor of her search increased. "Th-then I will h-have to call security... sir." Far shorter in stature than the man before her, the young woman cringed against the wooden desk, hand trembling as she groped under the furniture, and suppressing a yelp of terror as she felt her upper arm caught in a firm grasp. It brought her hand into view, Taki's free hand quickly claiming her other arm and transferring both of her thin wrists into one hand with ease. "Let m-me go..." came her shaky demand, followed by a meek: "Please."
"There will be no need for security to get involved, Kunniko-chan." He grinned, shark-like. "Have you forgotten again? The little red button you were risking it all to press is on the other," here he gestured his head toward the far corner of the front of the desk, "end of your desk. Tsk, tsk."
Kunniko's eyes widened, stuttering out, "A-aizawa-san?"
"Correct, and yet, not," Taki half-sang, the fingers of his free hand closing around something solid and heavy on top of the woman's desk, out of her sight and earshot, distracting her with a chaste kiss to her forehead. This earned nothing less than a growl. "But, I'm afraid the little monologue I could give you on that subject is being saved for someone else."
"Y-you're crazy," she snarled, struggling against his hold. "If you d-don't let me go I'll scream."
"Goodnight, Kunniko-chan."
Swift, merciless, but not lethal... a quick quieting blow to the skull with a metallic paperweight, and she slept.
Kunniko's form went limp almost immediately, slumping forward against Taki before she was able to utter a single sound. His hands went gently to her shoulders, setting his temporary weapon back where he'd found it, and began to step backwards, lying the young woman on the flooring as tenderly as he could. When she finally lay, stretched out on the flooring, he briefly ran his fingers into her hair, whispering against her ear.
Let it be known that the Angel of Death came today... but his servant showed mercy upon you.
The resulting silence when he finally stood, having completed the delivery of his message, was broken much swifter than he thought it would, and he shuddered to think that his entire plan was on the verge of ruin when the doors of the much larger office swung open.
Thankfully the one that emerged was not the reason he was there. Instead, a dark-haired, fitful man seemed to leap out in an exaggerated fashion. Recognition struck Taki immediately, and he froze in place, knowing full well that all the man would have to do is look the right direction to make all of the efforts worthless. The rather shaken-looking being that was Sakano was still too busy looking back into the office which he had come out of, calling out with eagerness, "Of c-course! I'll g-get it, right away-y, Shachou!"
Still, paralyzed, like a stone... blend in with the shadows...
Several words, faint, came from the office, the only ones coherent being "Will it be oolong, or jasmine?"
"Yes," Sakano replied nonsensically, finally releasing the office doors and taking off down the corridor at a quickened pace.
Taki stood still for many moments beyond necessity, finally peering around the corner down the hallway many moments after the timid man was long gone. The passage clear, the grand performance not interrupted or ruined, he stepped into the middle of the hall, grinning, and pushed his way through the door abruptly.
If he had not kept his mind severely focused on the task at hand, Taki most likely would have been either shocked or amused at the expression on his target's face as he looked over his shoulder and apparently was not met with something he predicted. But it faded just as quickly as it came, the man turning away from the large windows to face the intruder, adjusting his black and maroon outfit to make sure nothing was out of place, sunlight pouring in and forming an aureole around his delicate form like a seraphim.
The other was the first to speak. "May I ask what you are doing in here?" Sea-colored eyes narrowed, half in aggression, half in calculation. "And who exactly are you?"
"Seguchi-san, I was sure your memory was much better than that," Taki replied, arms crossing against his chest, the sleeves of his coat riding up somewhat in the process.
The blonde gave a deep sigh. "Aizawa-san. You know you are not allowed on the premises."
"You of all people knew that my occasional... disregard, of rules, was what gave me such potential to be great."
"Leave," Tohma stoically replied. "I won't ask again."
Taki's grin didn't fade, boldly sauntering into the spacious office with an air of complete confidence. The change in his former boss' eyes, from cold into a more warning gaze, only bothered him for the split-second in which it occurred, for a moment he felt the bugs crawling along underneath his skin once more, then it vanished again under the surface of the high.
"You'd be wasting your breath if you did," the intruder taunted, pointing one bony finger in Seguchi's direction. "You have no power here, not in my presence."
Finally did Tohma notice the state of Aizawa's body; the frighteningly thin hands, pale complexion, and a number of red, scabbed sores all along the visible part of his arm that made the blonde's stomach lurch. Glancing up again, he took quick note of the man's glassy, crazed eyes, and mentally pieced it all together... no wonder he hadn't recognized the man right off. He knew all too well that artists, when faced with tough situations, tended to find dramatic or drastic ways out of it, but rarely did the self-inflicted problems of performers show themselves this plainly, for performers were just that.
"Aizawa-san," the president inquired softly, taking a couple of small, cautious steps toward his desk. "What happened to you?"
"Don't you give me that sugary act, Seguchi," Taki fumed, withdrawing his hand with a jerk and adjusting his sleeves to better hide his scarred arms. "I see right through it!"
Tohma shook his head. "You can't see anything. Not in your state." The man's calm demeanor was beginning to wear on Taki's already raw nerves.
"I see more now than I ever could before, but you as usual choose to ignore, turn a blind eye to anything that you don't think is possibly beneficial to you..." A pause, savoring the moment just before he delivered the addition to his sentence, "...or Yuki Eiri."
Something intense, yet unreadable to most flashed through the president's eyes, telling Taki he'd struck exactly where he'd wanted to, and with the exact force he'd calculated. But he didn't stop there, the stake had to be driven in further.
"That was where I came in usefulness, right? You had found a villain, and you could finally do something you've always wanted... rush in and be his little knight in shining armor. I played out my role in your fairy tale, and then I was just supposed to disappear, isn't that right?" The anger once suppressed was no longer lurking under the surface, Seguchi's soft features twisted into a menacing, murderous glare. Where anyone in their right mind would have wisely not opened their mouth again, however, the crazed man continued. "You thought I would become nothing. You thought you would never see me again, that way you wouldn't have to feel the guilt that you should feel for the way you used me."
The usual flowery overtone completely gone from Tohma's voice, he at length gave a near unheard reply, voice quivering with rage. "What is it you want from me, Aizawa-san? Money for your habit? A fight? Pity, maybe? Or is that all you have to say?"
"Wrong, wrong, wrong and wrong again, as usual, Seguchi." Taki grinned, a simple gesture that seemed to rouse so much more anger from the other man it nearly surprised him.
"I'm in no mood for your games. Tell me what it is you want."
"And I'm in no mood for yours either. Don't you mean, 'tell me what I can do that will make you vanish'?"
"If I simply wanted you to vanish," Tohma said, striding over to his desk swiftly and striking something that made a clicking sound beneath it, "I would have done so as soon as you came in here."
The dark-haired man's eyes widened. "How dare you..."
Then the trademark smile was there again, one hand going to the blonde's hip. "Silent alarm, Aizawa-san."
"I know that, you no-talent fool!" Taki half-screamed. Great, now he had a time constraint, a short one at that. "Better make this quick then."
Before Seguchi could even question what that last statement meant, he knew all too well. Slowly, carefully, he raised both hands where they were within the other man's visibility, taking one, two cautious steps backwards.
Clicking back the safety of the handgun, Aizawa leveled the barrel at his target, the adrenaline now coursing through him in more quantity than ever. The euphoria, combined with the surrendering position of his greatest enemy... now he truly was a god...
"I'd ask if you had any last words," Taki mused, trying to mask the shakiness in his tone from the pure rush, "But it's your own fault we don't have time for such pleasantries."
Tohma's eyes locked with the other's in defiance, then closed, a few swift visions passing before his mind's eye. And at that...
The enraged god sent forth metal and fire, striking down the one who had opposed him...
There was no cry. The blonde lurched forward, hands weakly attempting to clutch at his chest. A couple of weak, sickly coughs, and he stumbled back, hitting the glass with a loud sound, and unable to support his own weight any longer slumped down against it... down, down into a sitting position, hat falling to the floor next to him. Now the sunlight poured through the tainted parts of the glass in a shade as perfectly red as stained windows in a chapel, save one minuscule error, a spider-webbed pattern centered around the single bullet, as if the glass panels had set up an altar to honor it.
With a toothy grin, Death's errant felt his wings begin to rejuvenate, much like the rebirth of a phoenix...
And he set off, one more task at hand, through his grand delusion not even seeing or feeling the nervous man he threw to the ground on his hellpath back down the corridor.
Author's Notes: Wah! That was fun and yet painful to do, at the same time. (I can never decide if I really hate or really love Tohma.) I tried to keep the surreal air that kinda 'goes with' Taki in this piece, but at the same time this wasn't an introspective like last time so I slapped it in between actual interactions with reality. The choppiness of this is intentional. Well, at least that's the last I'll be writing of his perspective. It's creepy. A very different perspective will greet you all in the next chapter.
Well, uh, ran out of things to say. Oh yea. Thanks to everyone that reviewed my first chapter, Silverone, Guren, Anon64 and of course the incomparable HeidedeVries!