Empyrean Rose
by Capella A. Morningside

IV: K: Glass House

"I can't take this anymore!"

I'd been almost asleep when the familiar grating yell hit me upside the head like a shovel, followed soon after with a protesting, whiny voice.

"Come on-n-n! Just once more, I'll get it right this time I swear!"

"You've said that about ten times now."

"But this time I mean it!"

"This is a waste of time. I'm going to take a break before I get blisters on my fingers."

My eyes were still closed, the near-daily argument failing to really affect me, simply sighing and hoping that the more reasonable guitarist would stop the fight so I wouldn't have to. I was feeling lazy, so sue me.

"He's right, I'm going to rest awhile too, I'm starting to get callouses on my callouses."

So much for the reasonable guitarist.

"Hiro-o-o," came the inevitable wail, "Not you too! Everyone's against me-e!"

"I don't blame them," I finally said, still not opening my eyes, slouching a little more in my uncomfortable chair. "You're being more incompetent than usual today."

"K-san! You're so cruel!"

"At least he's on our side for once," Fujisaki remarked.

"When did I say I was on anyone's side?" I replied with a smirk, finally opening my eyes, meeting the keyboardist's highly irritated gaze with full confidence. Silence reigned a few moments, even Nakano was wisely picking up his instrument again when Fujisaki's fury broke out in full force.

"Oh come on, K-san! It's been at least fifteen times now and that idiot still can't remember the melody!"

Shuichi piped in for his own defense, energetically hopping up and down in front of the mic. "I got it this time, I really do! Just once more! Please-e-e!"

"You're starting to waste more time with your complaining than Shindou is by screwing up constantly," I responded. "Get back behind that keyboard."

"Can't argue with that," Nakano muttered.

Fujisaki gave me the good ol' 'I-dare-you' look, crossing his arms and looking too much like a brattier version of his cousin for his own good. I had to give him credit, he did this almost every time something like this happened even though he always knew how it would end. I was just about to let history repeat itself, my hand reaching for my gun, when Shuichi spoke again, his voice more serious than before.

"Um... why is that light blinking?"

I halted, my eyes immediately going to the pink-haired singer, then following his gaze to a blinking red light just next to the trigger for the fire alarm. I was on my feet in an instant. "Someone triggered the silent alarm."

Sober-mindedness came over the band immediately. "What's going on?" the guitarist inquired, lowly.

I shook my head. "I don't know." I went ahead and took out my handgun, however, loading a fresh clip into the weapon in record time. Taking advantage of the quiet, I listened hard, trying to catch any sounds from outside the room and for a moment, all I heard were doors, opening and closing down the hall. Eventually I distinguished the sound of police sirens, much to my relief. "The cops are here..."

But the sound of the opening and closing doors was getting nearer. The band members seemed to sense my unrest, remaining silent and tense, watching me like a guide. If my guard was up, they knew there was a damned good reason for it.

I realized too late that the room's design and my own position were working against me. As the door came open, it swung so that it blocked me from access or even from seeing who had entered. The shot was fired before I could get around the obstacle and I watched helplessly as Shindou cried out and fell to his knees, clutching at his side. The other two took shelter behind equipment as quickly as they could to dodge a few extra bullets that came in their general directions, and I did the only thing I could at the time; I threw my weight with full force into the open door, catching the unseen assailant off-guard and the door slammed shut.

Though not a particularly religious man, I made a mental note to thank every single deity profusely later when I turned and witnessed Shindou slowly coming to a stand. The resilient singer appeared to have only been grazed, and his bandmates were at his side in an instant. Now that priority one was taken care of...

"Take care of him," I said firmly. This wannabe-assassin wasn't going to get away, not under my watch. Cautiously, I cracked the door open, just in time to catch the black-clad assailant disappear around the corner. I didn't hesitate to give chase. "I'll be right back," I called behind me.

He wasn't hard to follow, this man dressed in such dark attire in a place decorated so lightly. He spent a while trying to lose me, weaving through the hallways and ascending stairways in a frantic manner. Up floors, down floors, through the corridors, throwing to the side anyone that got in his way, he ran like a bat out of hell.

"Where will you go?" I called breathlessly after him at one point. "Get away from me... and you'll run straight into the police..."

The response to this was a blindly-fired bullet that whizzed past my head dangerously. "Shit! You little prick!" I cried.

But in my mind, I nearly smiled. Way to go, moron, I thought. You fired at me, don't you know that gives me full authority to shoot back? Still on the run, I leveled my handgun at the back of his head: I could all-too-easily put this guy out of his misery with one shot. He threw open the door of another staircase, and I followed, stopping dead in my tracks at the base of the stairs, formulating another, better plan instead.

Watching him jog up the stairs, I calculated, aimed, and fired.

The shot hit perfectly. Immediately disabled, he gave a terrible yell, the knee I'd shot out the back of giving way underneath him, sending the assassin tumbling backwards disgracefully down the stairs. Smiling in my victory, I simply watched, carefully sidestepping out of the way when he hit the floor next to me with a loud noise, his gun clattering on the tile and coming to a rest several meters away from him.

"What have we here?" I said, cleverly, taking in the thin appearance, the hollow eyes, and the scarred arms. "A classic meth-head."

He looked from his gun, to me, with contempt. "Fucking American," he spat.

I smiled. "You say that like it's an insult."

Using his arms, the dark-haired man tried in desperation to get back up, only to cry out in pain when he attempted to use the leg I had damaged, possibly forever.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," I taunted. "But that's what you get. Too bad your little mission went awry."

"Awry?" he mimicked. Lowering his head, he gave a laugh I could only classify as unstable. "You don't know what you're talking about. I did exactly what I came here to do."

"For your information, you barely hurt Shindou Shuichi. Sorry to disappoint."

The echoing again, this time mocking my accent while repeating my words. "Sorry to disappoint, but that means I only failed in half of my mission." He grinned up at me. "I'm willing to bet Seguchi's already dead by now."

I told myself he could only be bluffing, that he could just be trying to psyche me out, but something in his insane eyes told me it wasn't a lie. My boastful confidence faltered a bit, and I wanted to see for myself. My eyes not leaving the man on the floor, I pushed open the stairway door, peering out.

Much to my convenience, a lone policewoman was in the hall, questioning a few rattled people that had most likely borne witness to our little chase. I summoned her with a wave of my hand, and she was there in a flash, calling for backup on her two-way radio. She didn't have much to say to me, only asking me if the bleeding, nasty-looking wound behind his knee was my doing; I proudly took credit.

When the policewoman's attention left me, I ascended the staircase for a few floors, now with the intent of finding out what exactly was going on upstairs.

Police chatter and the scrambled voices over transceivers buzzing in and out created quite a layer of noise that greeted me when I emerged on the correct floor. The authorities here were uptight, as soon as I shut the door behind me, three of them were on me, asking questions and unnecessarily prodding me, eyeing my weapon with high-strung expressions. It took a lot of convincing, but in time they backed down, obviously having more important matters to attend to. The elevator next to me opened, and a young man carrying a morbidly familiar black bag made his way down the hall-- so that psycho wasn't bluffing after all. I sighed and turned away, preparing to return to my band, tell them the news, and retrieve medical help for Shindou if it hadn't been done already... when one last thing caught my attention.

In the middle of all the chaos, the nervousness and the generally negative atmosphere, lay the last person I expected to see calm, curled up on a bench and clutching at a thin blanket some paramedic had thrown over him, fast asleep. I grabbed a passing paramedic on his way to the elevator, and pointing at the man, I asked, "Is he alright?"

The man straightened his glasses, peering over them to see what I was referring to. "Oh, him?" A nod. "He's fine, well, physically anyway. We found him sitting next to the body. After we took him out of the room, he just went to sleep."

"He's my co-worker," I identified. "I'll take him home."

"Thanks. We weren't sure what to do with him." He nodded, pulling away from my hand on his shoulder, and gradually disappearing back into the forest of people. "Don't upset him when he wakes up. Call the hospital if you need anything."

"Got it." I assured. Finally remembering to replace my gun in its holster, I did so, and carefully working my way through the crowded hall I approached the bench, debating whether I should wake him up. In the end, I decided against possibly getting him all upset, and scooped him up in my arms, blanket and all, and took the elevator back to the floor our band was on.

Paramedics were already helping Shindou onto a stretcher when I arrived, despite his constant protests that he was perfectly able to walk out to the ambulance, and his incessant pleading with anyone who would listen that someone call Yuki to tell him that he was going to the hospital. Great, I thought. The news hadn't spread yet.

"I've tried three times now, Shu," I heard Nakano saying as I pushed my way into the room. "He's not answering. I doubt he's even awake--" the guitarist watched me enter, Sakano still dead asleep in my arms. "K, what's going on? Did you get the guy?"

"I did," I replied. "The police have him now."

"Oh good," Shindou sighed as the paramedics lifted the stretcher. "That guy was a major creep."

"Time to go, Shindou-san," one of the men lifting the stretcher said.

I could tell that the singer wanted nothing more than to disagree, but Nakano stepped in, performing his usual routine of using reassuring words to calm his friend down. "Don't worry, Shu. I'll call Yuki Eiri-san's phone until it drives him crazy, I'll make sure he knows you're okay."

"Thanks, Hiro." And with a little smile and a wave, he was finally carried out of the room.

"That guy was a drug addict," I dully said, carefully lying the sleeping producer down on a bench to give my back a rest. Sure the man was light, but I was pretty damn tired already. "I could tell when I got a better look at him."

At last it seemed Sakano had caught their attention. Fujisaki broke his silence, stepping away from his place against the wall. "What happened to Sakano-san? Is he okay?"

Unfortunately, I could barely look at the kid when I responded. Was it really going to be up to me to break the news? "He's sleeping... somehow."

"What's going on up there?" the keyboardist asked. "It must have been someone up there that triggered the alarm."

"Well," I scratched the back of my neck, most likely starting to look like the nervous wreck that Sakano usually was. "Apparently Shuichi wasn't this guy's only target."

"Who else?"

I sighed, summoning up my old strength. Come on, Claude, I told myself. You can do this. It's not something you haven't done before. My cool demeanor returning, I looked Fujisaki directly in the eyes with all seriousness. "Fujisaki-kun, I hate having to tell you this, but..." I paused, swallowing. "He went after your cousin first."

"W-what are you saying?" The teenager stuttered. Time to be blunt, no room for denial.

"Seguchi was shot, Fujisaki-kun," I said, voice inexpressive. "He's dead." The boy stared at me, aghast. "I'm sorry."

Nakano looked from me, to the upset teen, before taking a step toward the latter with deeply-etched concern in his features. "Suguru..."

A hand stopped him. Though he watched the ground, Fujisaki's extended hand silenced his bandmate in an instant. The room seemed to freeze around us, no one even attempting to move, but at length, his expression still stoic, the keyboardist let his arm down to fish in his pocket, pulling out a cell phone.

"I'm calling Mika-san," he answered our question before it even left our lips, rapidly dialing on the device. "I don't want her to hear it from the police first."

Gently, I bent down, scooping the still-slumbering Sakano in my arms once more. "I'm going home," I said, watching Fujisaki retreat to a corner of the room to speak with Seguchi's wife in private. "I'll take Sakano with me. I..." I paused, hearing a cry, just barely audible from the other end of the line on the teenager's phone, and felt a sinking feeling in my chest. "I don't think he needs to be by himself right now."

Hiroshi nodded at me. "I agree. I'm headed to the hospital to look after Shu, or at least until Yuki Eiri-san gets there." He picked up his backpack as well as Shindou's, slinging both over his shoulder. "Which may be a while, considering..." Wisely, he didn't finish the sentence, leaving the room silently.

I heard a soft click of Fujisaki flipping his phone shut. "I'm going to see her," he said, just above a whisper, head lowered as he took swift strides out of the room, leaving me alone with the sleeping producer.

I sighed stressfully. "Well, Sakano-san," I whispered to his unconscious form, "let's go. There's no reason to stick around here anymore."

Author's Notes: This was perhaps the hardest chapter yet to get started on, but once I did things went pretty smooth, I only hit a couple of hitches. Thanks to my reviewers, l.h.o.o.q., Guren, Miroku's Priestess and of course HeidedeVries! (By the way Guren, you were right about what Sakano stopped himself from saying, good job.) This piece has marked a couple of landmarks in my statistics. They are:

-The most reviews I've ever gotten on a piece (and it's not even done yet)!

-The first time I was ever put in a C2 archive.

Well, aside from all that, I guess I should mention that K's 'chapter title theme' is house and home. I think I had the most fun with the beginning of this, it was a welcome break from the despair and darkness that dominate this piece and I just love watching Bad Luck squabble amongst themselves, it never ceases to entertain me. And don't worry, Taki's role isn't completely done yet, he still has a bit of a part to play before all is said and done here. Well, hope you enjoyed, next chapter will be here soon!