Have you ever heard King Crimson? I like the old prog rock guys from England. Those were the days. They could just jam for hours on end. Nowadays, it's all pop-- it's the difference between listening to a debate and a sound byte on the news. They're both interesting, but the debate always ends up having a bit more substance to it. Not that I don't like pop, mind you, I mean, it's important to appeal to lots of different people. It's just...

Well, haven't you ever wished you could grow up?

Jazz'd be good too.

That's why I go to these jazz clubs sometimes with Ma and Ken. No one recognizes us, and we can be grown ups for a while. What self-respecting fan of jazz would recognize ASK here? None of them would admit to it, even if they did. We can be incognito here without even wearing a hat.

I'm not totally sure whether I was surprised to see Suguru Fujisaki along with Bad Luck's guitarist, grooving along with the rest of us to the beat eclectic. The kid was kind of young for that kind of place, yeah, but then, he was a pop idol too, so I suppose it wasn't that strange. In a different time, I might have been that kid's friend: a talented young musician and his older, wiser friend. But this was the time after Seguchi, and everyone knew Fujisaki was his cousin.

I considered my options while I sat there with my band mates.

I considered ditching Ma and Ken, getting some of the boys from the bad neighborhoods, and making a night of little Seguchi's cousin. I discarded the notion quickly. Rape had gotten dull recently.

My second thought was of drugs. It wasn't difficult to find an opium den if you knew where to look, even now, with Japan's fine laws. Ah, Uncle Sato. I don't think you meant for your crime fighting tips to be used so. The drugs had worked well against Shindou and Sakuma, but to do the same thing twice was so... uncreative. Of course, hooking him on drugs and creating a scandal wouldn't be quite the same thing, but still...

Before I could complete my musings, who should walk in but Mr. big ugly American manager K. My lips pursed and I looked away from his guns. That guy had eyes on him just like Yuki's and Seguchi's. No. Not like theirs. They had the eyes of killers.

He had the eyes of an assassin.

Where Yuki's eyes were overarched by cold anger and fear, where Seguchi's eyes were tinged with hidden, hot anger, Mr. K's eyes were just... dangerous. I knew I had to do something about him before I did anything that affected the band he managed.

What could I do, though?

I weighed my options carefully. It wasn't like there was a single phone call that was going to make the man a non-issue.

On the other hand... he had family in America, didn't he? A wife and a kid... They'd been in the news sometime last year, hadn't they?

I might not be in America, I might not have connections in America, but I've got a lot of connections here. And they're a global organization. What kind of favours did I have to call in? I needed someone pretty high up the ladder. Not the top, no, that'd be too much, and there was no way anyone up at the top owed me anything, but...

Hadn't I signed those posters for Kazuyoshi Agata's sister, gotten her backstage passes to a few sold out shows? I also had my music industry connections, I could probably... It probably wasn't enough for a hit, but maybe...

I excused myself from the table and walked into the bathroom. I had a couple of people to call. The first thing I did was check to make sure no one else was there before dialing the first number.

"Yasu? It's me," I said without any preamble. "I want to you find out about Bad Luck's manager. He goes by the name Mr. K."

"Another one?" asked Yasu. "How many of these guys are we going to investigate? What do you think they're doing?"

"Don't whine, I pay you good money to do this. And you're getting to watch the stars. Some of Japan's hottest people."

"Are you some kind of voyeur?" he asked me.

Voyeur? "It's not like I'm asking you to watch the emperor," I replied testily. "What's your problem, anyway?"

He was quiet for a moment. "That kid, Shindou. You spiked his drink."

I went silent. He'd been watching? Did he have pictures? He could ruin me... He could ruin my vengeance. No need to panic. If it came down to what we each said, no one would accept the word of a failed cop against the word of a star. "What are you talking about?" I asked him. I hoped my voice was icy.

"Okay, Mr. Aizawa. It was only something I heard."

"I didn't spike anything. Don't listen to nasty rumors," I ordered. Was it a rumor? Had Seguchi heard it? Yuki? The two of them were more than capable of murder. Capable of sending Mr. K to kill me... "If you think it's too much, don't bother," I said. I wished it had been another kind of phone. Pressing off on a cell isn't the same as slamming down a receiver.

So. K might be looking for my head right now. I leaned up against the wall. I had to do it, take preemptive action. A threat to his family might not be enough, especially if he thought it was me. It had to be more drastic, it had to be--

The man in question walked into the rest room. He looked at me for a moment, then started to take a piss. When he was done, he shook himself, zipped up his pants and left.

I scowled. Did he see me as so pathetic? That he could just turn his back to me, like I was nothing? Like I was no one? I was angry, suddenly. Really angry.

I dialed my 'friend' with his international connections. "Yo, Agata," I said casually. "It's Taki Aizawa. You remember me, I got your sister all those backstage passes..."

"Oh, yeah. Superstar," he said in recognition. "How're ya doing?"

"Good, good. Your sister need any more passes?"

"Ah, she's real big on these Bad Luck chips now." I could almost hear the shrug in his voice. "Dunno. She likes 'em. Me, I liked ASK better, but I'm not the target audience right?"

"Heh." I grinned. "Well, I could get you a backstage pass still."

He laughed into the phone. "So, you call to shoot the breeze with me?"

"No. I was wondering about the cost of something that... well, that your American affiliates might be able to do."

"Business, huh? That's fine with me, but I make it a policy to only conduct business in person. Cuts down on... phone worries. You know what I mean, Aizawa?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Usual place?"

"Betcher ass, Superstar. 2 hours. Got me?"

"Yep." This time, I closed my phone carefully. I wouldn't want to be rude to a guy like Agata. He could have me killed faster than Seguchi could, and probably cover it up better. These guys were pros. Like Mr. K.

I went back to ASK's table and looked up information on the internet. Google's so helpful that way... Ma was looking over at me every now and then, probably curious about why I was playing with my phone instead of grooving with them.

Over at Bad Luck's table, I could feel Mr. K staring holes into my head. I resolutely didn't look at him. It really didn't take long at all to find Mr. K's family. Maybe it's because they're high profile, or maybe it's just because I'm that good. Strike that.

I really am that good.

I looked up and smirked at Mr. K, which I admit was a little bit foolish. I felt pretty superior to him at that moment though, him just sitting there, staring at our table. He looked a bit taken aback to find that I'd met his eyes. I got up and walked over to them without saying a word to Ma or Ken.

"Heard Bad Luck's going to take a fall in the charts," I said. "That's what you get for gaining promotions by having your lead singer sleep around."

The guitarist-- Nakano, wasn't it?-- looked a bit pissed, but obviously was too smart to lose his cool. "Why? Is ASK putting out a new record? Our fans probably will have a tough time buying anything from us after you've blown their eardrums with your crap on the radio."

My hand clenched tightly into a fist, but my mouth smiled. "I hear your--"

Ma put a hand on my arm from behind me. "Stop baiting them," he said. "Isn't it enough that their sales are plummeting thanks to those new scandals at NG? Leave them alone. Sex scandals, drug abuse... how sad for them."

K's eyes snapped to Ma. "Bet Seguchi feels stupid now," I said, then took Ma's arm and pulled him back to our table. "I was handling that," I said, a little bit annoyed.

"Tacchi," said Ma, reverting to my nickname, "if you really want to do that kind of thing, we're with you. A few words never hurt anyone, and besides, they deserve them, after all the crap they've been doing. Fame really got to their heads, huh."

"Yeah." K was still looking at Ma. I didn't really know why, but it was time for me to leave the club, so I didn't dwell on it. I yawned largely. "I'm beat, guys. See you tomorrow. Big rehearsal."

"Yeah," said Ken. "See you later, Taki!"

I regret it now, leaving them to go meet my Yakuza contact. If I had it to do again, I think I would have stayed.

Don't get me wrong. My meeting went fine. Agata set his friends in America to do what I'd asked pretty quickly. I barely even got charged, since they used the whole concept as a loyalty test. What's 1,000,000 yen for hurting some kid? Nothing, that's what it is. It's a freebie.

I knew it, Agata knew it, and I figured I'd be getting a call from him eventually to ask for a repayment of the favor. I didn't grudge that. I really didn't. What goes around comes around, right? Right, well...

Only, sometimes, it comes around to the wrong people. The whole karma thing is pretty messed up, I guess. Or maybe Ma and Ken were bastards a lifetime ago, and I was a saint, and next time around I'll be the one who gets beat to a pulp outside of a jazz club.

They didn't want to press charges, and wouldn't tell me who did it. Fucked up our concert schedule, though. I put my money on K. Guitarists are always just talk, and Fujisaki's probably too young to really do that kind of damage.

I watched the "news" with Ma at his bedside, our hands linked while my face twisting into a smirk that Ma scolded, but not particularly harshly. K was running back to America, which definitely made up for him beating poor Ma and Ken to bloody pulps. I was pretty surprised we'd made the news here in Japan, because I hadn't thought the Winchester family was quite that high up the ladder. I got the feeling that my repayment schedule from Agata would be a little tougher than I thought, but then, did it really matter?

The kid was badly injured from the "accident" that involved a rather high building.

I wondered how they'd pulled it off: despite the media attention, the police apparently weren't involved. I further wondered if it had been Seguchi, the Yakuza, or the Winchesters that had convinced the police not to pursue the matter.

Any way worked for me.

The next few weeks were a blur. I did so much to hurt him.

I had this little gadget I bought under a false name from the Akume Corporation in Yokohama. It was this little pair of wire clippers with a trigger. I'm not sure what they were for, maybe some sort of practical joke? They sell strange things at that company. I put them into Nakano's motorcycle, and one day, when he had young Fujisaki on his bike on the highway, I pushed the trigger. They both almost died.

And then I anonymously leaked the tape I'd made of Ryuichi's beating to the police and the media. Seguchi appeared at Yuki's trial, haggard and wan. Yuki clutched his lover's hand. It was so sweet and cute in the media, except for the fact that they called him 'killer.' His book slipped right off the top ten list.

An unauthorized biography of the man replaced it in the number one spot.

It documented Seguchi's torrid love affair with Yuki. Shindou left Yuki (although, I ironically wondered how permanent that would be.) Seguchi's wife left him.

I like to think that the author wouldn't have managed that without the help I sent him. Uncle Sato always said a well-manipulated photo was worth a thousand words. Or was it ten thousand yen? Either way, I must have written half the novel myself.

Well. With Yasu's help. His negatives of Yuki and Tohma were really helpful.

I was also busy with Ma and Ken, trying to get our new CD out by the deadline. After they healed up, it wasn't so hard. We had most of our material written, and even if they couldn't play or practice while bedridden, they could still collaborate with me on actually writing the songs. They'd hum, or sing, and I'd take creative control. I have to thank Suchu Recordings for getting them beds in the same semi-private room. If they hadn't done that, my friends would probably have gone into private, separate ones, and we wouldn't have gotten any work done at all.

Bad Luck came out with a CD that ranked really poorly, and then, the strangest thing happened: Nittle Grasper came out with a CD that didn't even make the top ten charts. Ryuichi Sakuma's voice was only on the first three tracks before mysteriously being replaced by Tohma Seguchi and Noriko Ukai with duet-style vocals. Neither of them could really hold the weight that singing in a pro band required. When our CD came out, everyone was talking about Suchu Recordings, as though NG didn't exist. We debuted better than Nittle Grasper and Bad Luck put together.

I was exceedingly happy for a few weeks. We were on top. In all Japan, we were the best.

But the greatest happiness comes hand in hand with demons, or so they say.

We were in a club again, me, Ma and Ken, just sitting with our drinks. I saw Seguchi sitting at the bar with Ukai and Sakuma. Sakuma played with his stupid stuffed animal, head inexpertly sewn back on, without any real joy, his usual smile wiped clean from his face. Bad Luck was there too, the lead singer with his head propped up in one hand, a colorful drink mostly finished in the other.

They were finished. I was... more than happy. More than happy. Everyone was there, everyone who mattered, and I'd won... When who should walk in but Mr. Yasu, the ex-police 280-chef private eye. He looked over at me, then sat at the table with Seguchi.

It interrupted my conversation with Ma. I trailed off mid-sentence and just watched. Seguchi and Ukai's eyes drifted to me. Sakuma just kept playing with his rabbit. I suppose that's what happens when you steal someone's voice.

Then, Yasu stood up and went to Bad Luck. Fujisaki, arm still in a sling, looked taken aback, while the guitarist's eyes narrowed. Shindou broke down in tears.

And then, Mr. Private-Fucking-Eye came over to our table.

"We know all about you, now, Taki," said Yasu.

"Know about what?" asked Ma.

I said nothing.

Yasu sighed and pulled out a police badge. I looked at him, astonished. How had he hidden this from me? The fucking bastard! I hope I didn't show my thoughts, though. Seguchi was smiling at me suddenly, a predatory, hateful hyena's grin.

It wasn't so bad. It wasn't. He was a cop. Cops are stupid. This'd be just fine.

"Tacchi, what's going on?" asked Ken softly.

I shrugged. "Dunno. What do you want," I took a moment to glance at the rank on the badge, "Detective?"

"Want? Well, I want a confession. You know it goes easier on everyone when there's a confession," he said mildly. Bastard lit up a cigarette.

I pulled it out of his mouth and put it into the ashtray, twisting it hard to make it go out. "I'm a singer," I said, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't smoke around me." The fact that I smoke every now and then is irrelevant. The goal is to keep the policeman under you.

He rolled his eyes. "All right, then, if you're worried. Now, Mr. Aizawa," he said, taking out a photograph. "Do you recognize these people?"

I looked. An array of convicts' faces were lined up on a sheet in front of me. Several of them were drug dealers I'd dealt with in the past. Not dealt with, mind you, I'd never dealt drugs, just... bought from them. Asked advice of them. "No," I said simply.

I glanced at Seguchi. He had his phone on his ear, one hand idly rubbing Sakuma's back. Ukai was glaring daggers at me.

"Who are they?" asked Ma, curiously.

"Do you really want me to do this, Mr. Aizawa?"

I shrugged. "Hey, I don't know who they are, so do whatever you'd like."

He pulled out another photograph. When the hell had they taken photos of me? I should have noticed! Uncle Sato trained me to notice! I felt myself stiffen involuntarily, so I forced myself to relax. The worst thing to do when talking to police was to act like you were guilty. There'd be an explanation, I'd make one.

"This one sold you... let's see..." He pulled a piece of paper out of his coat. "A form of cocaine."

Ma looked at me.

This was bad. Very bad. Drug laws in Japan are harsh. They had photographic evidence of me. But how did anyone know what I'd bought? No... Yasu was bluffing.

"Even if I were going to do drugs, I wouldn't do that one. Opiates are hard drugs." I smiled at Yasu. "Do I look like some addict to you?"

"No," said the detective with a straight face. "You do, however, look like a man who'd slip drugs into someone else's drinks."

"Tacchi?" Ma asked, his eyes wide.

I did it. I looked Ma straight in the eyes, and with a disparaging, betrayed look on my face, said, "I can't believe you think I'd do that, Ma. Do you think so too, Ken?"

Ken wouldn't look me in the eyes. "Taki, you'd do anything to get to the top."

"I'm not that low," I said, half-regretting the words as they came out of my mouth.

"We searched your apartment this evening, Mr. Aizawa. We found these notes about Ryuichi Sakuma's drug schedule-- which, I assure you, we'll be getting in touch with him for later." He threw a glance at Seguchi's table. Presumably, the other man couldn't hear Yasu, because his smile hadn't yet wavered. "We also found your notes regarding what you thought would be Mr. Sakuma's response to a variety of drugs."

Searched my apartment?

"Taki?" asked Ma, hesitantly.

I thought quickly. "A man is allowed to have stupid fantasies about people," I said. "Maybe they weren't healthy, but they were just fantasies."

"And you knew about his drugs how, exactly?"

"Some lunatic fan sent the list to me."

Yasu shook his head and slapped my notes down on the table. "Mr. Aizawa, is this not your handwriting?"

Ken looked at it. Ma just glanced at it. "Taki, shut up now. You don't have to talk to him. We'll get you a lawyer, then we'll deal with this whole mess." He went on, while Ken, who still wasn't looking looking at me, stole glances at the three of us.

I wanted to hit them both. Anything I'd done was for ASK. They had no right to-- to criticize me for it.

"Katakana is not exactly distinctive, is it. It's not... it's not calligraphy or something," I said. I didn't even have to fake the offense that snuck into my voice.

I turned, distracted as the door opened. Eiri Yuki walked in and glared at me for a moment before sitting down at a table away from both Sakuma and Shindou. Didn't Ryuichi have a restraining order against him? I brought my attention back just as Yasu was taking out another set of photographs. He spread them on the table. "All right then. Do you recognize this man?" he asked me, showing a picture of Agara.

"Don't say anything, Tacchi," said Ma.

"I can handle this," I hissed at him, my teeth clenched. Then I forced myself to relax while I replied to Yasu and his fucking ugly policeman's badge. "I gave his sister tickets to an ASK concert once," I replied, trying for a nonchalant air.

I saw Seguchi on the phone again. Who the fuck was he calling now?

"And on the twenty-first?" He pulled out a picture of me and Agara sitting on a park bench. I was handing him money in a paper bag.

They'd set me up. This was fucking entrapment. Fuckers.

"The twenty-first? You were with some guy in a park while we were getting beat up by--" Ma closed his mouth on the rest of the words.

Yasu took a moment to look at Ma. "We're still investigating that," he said politely, then turned back to me, his eyes narrowing. "So?"

I didn't have an answer for him, so I just kept silent.

"Was this a final installment, or just a downpayment?" he asked.

"Who is this guy?" asked Ken.

"Yakuza," said Yasu swiftly, his eyes not leaving mine. He was looking for a reaction that I was damned well not going to give him. "Confession is good for the soul, they say," he continued.

"What are you, Christian? Karma gets the people who deserve it," I replied, just as quickly.

"Fuck, Taki, what the hell is wrong with you? This is the police! He's accusing you of... of..."

"Of what, Ma?"

"More than a drug and sex scandal, that's what," said Ken. "Okay, look, man. You've always been a great singer, and I've always respected you for that. But... I can't deal with guys who are breaking into people's apartments over the weekends. The whole thing with Shindou before was bad enough, but--"

I swore silently. No one had ever told me how to get someone else to not trap you in a policeman's double talk.

"What thing with Shindou before?" asked Yasu.

Oh, fuck me.

"Uh, nothing," said Ken, his eyes wide.

"No... tell about this thing with Shindou."

"I misspoke," said Ken, uncomfortably.

Oh, fuck me.

"Shindou's here. Maybe I should ask him. What do you think, Taki?"

Fuck me hard with a toothpick. I'm pretty sure my eyes twitched. If they did, I know the detective saw it. I'd made the one mistake my uncle told me never to make, and that was showing them that they had you where they wanted you. Even if they did, you weren't supposed to let them know it.

"I don't have to take this," I said, standing up.

Ma and Ken stood with me, and we walked to the door, leaving Detective PI and his growing frown behind us at the table.

Karma's a bitch, have I mentioned that?

Outside the club, the press stood, taking pictures. I closed the door as fast as I could. At least I knew who Seguchi was calling. Even Yasu looked surprised.

We stood with our backs to the door, both bands watching us. Of them all, only Seguchi looked happy. Figures, huh? The one guy I was trying to get, and he was the only one without a deep frown, angry glare, or cold stare marring his features.

Ma squeezed my hand. "Did you do it?" he asked.

"Do what?" I replied, less a question than an angry statement.

"I don't know." Ma's eyes looked far away for a moment. "Look, we'll get a good lawyer. They can't just accuse you of stuff without any hard evidence."

Ken shook his head. "No. You two believe what you want. There isn't a lawyer in the whole fucking world that's going to get you off of this one, Taki. Those buddies of yours were bad enough, but now you're hanging with verifiable Yakuza? I mean... what are you thinking? Those guys kill peo-- Oh, you'd already know that..." He looked horrified.

"I didn't kill anyone!" I protested. I hadn't. I mean, I was trying to ruin them, not kill them. What use would it be to kill them? With my luck, it'd be all anyone ever talked about for my entire career, how Nittle Grasper and Bad Luck members were all killed in a horrific plane crash or what have you.

"How do I know that? You were willing to..." he glanced at Shindou, then at Yasu, and looked me in the eyes. "You were willing to rape that kid," he said, sotto voce. "Why wouldn't you be willing to kill him?"

Ma spun on Ken. "Shut up," he said, barely a hiss of air through his lips. "We didn't say a word against that, it's the same as saying yes."

Yasu stood and walked over to us, picking the bug off of my shirt with a sharp movement.

Seguchi started laughing. Laughing. Laughing at me. And... I found that I was smiling too. And laughing. At me.

There was something wrong with me. But it was the same thing as what was wrong with him. Trails of rubble in our wake, didn't even care enough about our own bands to keep them safe. He didn't even want to kill me, he just wanted to teach me a grand old karmic lesson while I was still around to appreciate it. Everyone was looking at us, me and Seguchi, and we laughed, as though sharing a private joke.

I'm sure you don't get it.

Hell, I'm not quite sure I did.

"So what's your name, Mr. Private Investigator?"

"Sato Yasuzawa, Detective from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. Nice to meet you."

Sato Yasuzawa. "Of course," I said, surprised that I was surprised. I looked into Seguchi's eyes again. He looked so very calm. I bent at the waist, stooped over as low as I could, and bowed to the winner. Yeah, I was bested. But you know what? I doubt there are many people out there who can say they've made Seguchi cry, and I'm one of them. And deep down, I knew Seguchi... He was just like me.

Ken and Ma are going to jail, or they're going to rat on me. I hope they talk. As far as it goes, I don't have that choice-- who'd be stupid enough to say anything about organized crime and drug dealers? It's a small enough protection for them, but I'll take the responsibility. They're still my band.

Even with the way it's turned out, bringing a man like that to tears... I'd do it all again. Yeah, no question. The only thing I'm guilty of is letting myself get caught.

They'd better lock me up forever.

The end. Owari. Fin.

I hope everyone enjoyed this story. Sorry I couldn't get more Taki/Ma/Ken interaction in there than I did. Please remember to leave a review, comment, or criticism, as I am a bit (understatement!) of a review whore. Thanks for reading!