Again, you guys had to put up with me and my long periods of not writing-ness. You know I love you, right? 'Coz I do. I love you TTTTHHHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIISSSSS much! Really, this time I have no real good excuse besides writer's block and being a lazy-ass. But those random reviews I get really inspire me- you know, the ones people leave randomly a few weeks or so after you submit a new chapter. So, in case you're one of those people, and you think 'Geez! It's been months since Kuku has updated! So, it would be stupid to review now!', turn your thinking around, 'coz those are what inspire me.

…Not that the burst of reviews I get right after I upload every chapter is BAD. I love all my reviews. I love them TTTTHHHHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIISSSSSS much!

…And not that I'm trying to be a review whore and get as many as I can. I just love reading the input you guys have, be it short three to four word sentences, to the long rants of how amazing my story is, to the creative input and suggestions. I love 'em all! (Just remember, I love critiques on my work. I'm not perfect, so if something is bothering you about my writing, or I didn't flesh something out enough or if something doesn't make sense, please, tell me! In NO WAY are any of these chapters final- I edit them and upload the changes every now and then. )

And since I've heard nothing on the nasty little rumor I talked about last act, the Suck-Ups and Thankys are returning. SO, major props go out to PoisonApples09 (I'm so glad you like it! I hope you'll enjoy what I've got in store for you today!), Makurayami Ookami (I think it's interesting too, and it gets more crazy here. Hope you enjoy!), kuronotenshi7 (Amazing how you guys can make my day with just two words! I hope this is just as awesome!), Molly-Chan the AnimeGame Fan (I love you and your reviews, you know that, right? They're entertaining! You have a Deviant, right? I think I'm going to go stalk you now. XP), The Angel of Writing (I'm glad you like it! You're the one blessing me with the occasional ideas, right? XP Love your name!), inuyashalover1265 (Oh, I know what you mean! I'm a straight chick too, but I LOVE me some shonen-ai! I'm glad you like me little crossover idea here! Yay!), Lady Samurai (Well, that coupling seems to be a favorite…but who knows? Only me! I LOVE having the power, man!), Kasha (Some friend you are! Reviewing only chapter 4 and not my intermission? No Shonen Jump for you!), Seena58 (I hope to see you again…I'm sorry I've been taking so long! I hope you're still enjoying this story!), DarkenedDreamer (I'm so glad you like my style! I do try. -), Phantom Fox (I'm your first DN Angel fic? I'm so touched! You made my day with that. I'm so honored!), DevilintheAngel (I'm glad you like it!), Luna (Will do!), InsomniaOfTheReaper (You're right about the update time…I'm so bad with it. Sorry! Throw the tomatoes if you wish. I deserve them. o.o But I'm glad despite my slow-ass nature, you still enjoy! ), animegurl088 (Thanks!), PervyMonk (I might have bad things happen to Riku…I kinda foreshadow that…or do I? You won't know until the end! BWAHAHA!), and Misoka Mine (I'm so glad you like it! And thanks for pointing out my use of repetition- I've tried to tone it down this chapter and not overdo it again. I've noticed I tend to like repetition, but it's hard for me to tell if I overdo it, so please help me keep an eye on it! Thanks for your input on my writing!)

Sorry those were so long, but I had to make up for two chapters. o.o

Anyways, here's the next chapter! Review and give me inspiration!

Angel of Music

Act 5- Prima Donna

Act 5, Scene 1

Riku awoke with a shock, beads of sweat staining the back of her once pristine white nightgown. She grasped at the cloth of her nightgown that hung right over her heart in a sorry attempt to calm her racing heart. She breathed in and out sharply as if each breath pained her. She closed her eyes tightly as she tried to slow her breathing and calm herself down.

"Water…" she muttered to herself as she groped around her bedside table for her pitcher of water. She nearly knocked it over when she did find it, sending her heart racing once more. Instead of finding the glass she usually used to drink from the pitcher, she drunk straight from the pitcher's cool, porcelain sides. Calm DOWN, Riku, she mentally yelled at herself as a trickle of water made its way down her chin. She put the pitcher down with a thunk and whipped her chin clean. It was only a dream, you fool! Only a dream…

But if it was all merely a dream, why was every detail still so very vivid in her mind?

Why could she still taste the rancid water that had consumed her being on her lips?

Why could she still feel the dizzying pressure of the lack of air in her lungs?

Why did the demon's cruel, unnatural laughter still ringing in her ears?

Why did she still feel the demon's cold, blue eyes burn into her?

Why did her love just stand there, a dazed look on his face?

Why didn't Daisuke save her?

"Daisuke…" She muttered to a silent room that would not answer. She drew in her legs to her chest and rocked back and forth, too frightened to whisper anything else besides his name, too shocked to even cry. "Daisuke…"

End of Act 5, Scene 1

Act 5, Scene 2

Daisuke awoke to the smell of smoke stinging his nostrils. He shot up in his bed, and immediately regretted it- his head throbbed in pain as he did so. He held his head in one hand, and gripped the bedding in the other, the plush silk threads cool between his fingers.

Wait.

Silk?

His eyes widened as he realized that this was not his bed, nor the boy's dorm. Why was he…oh! The events of the night before came swimming back to his mind's eye. He winced, as the sudden surge of memory seemed to strengthen his budding headache. The Angel had sung to him…had embraced him…had ca…ca…caressed…him…Daisuke's cheeks flamed red in a mixture of pleasure and confusion. Why did he do that? He was the spirit of Father, right? So then why did he do that? And why did he enjoy it so much? Why did it feel so right? If he liked him, then it couldn't be Father…but why would the Angel lie to him? He had said…he was Father's angel. His mind was wheeling, confused by the many emotions and thoughts springing up in his mind, until he was brought back by a splash that echoed to his ears. He pulled back the black curtains that obscured his view, and was met with the sight of the Angel gazing at the water with an odd, scary sort of grin on his face as something smoldered in the water. It looked like a charred rope.

At the sound of the curtain's swish, he looked up at Daisuke, who involuntarily blushed.

"You're up." The Angel stated simply, a ghost of a smile crossing his lips.

"Y-yes." Daisuke answered, stuttering slightly with embarrassment.

"Your breakfast is on the beside table." The Angel said before turning to his piano. He didn't seem to mind the slosh of the water in his boots as he made his way up the steps to the piano. "When you're done, I'll take you back. No doubt that when you get back, you'll have plenty of work to keep you busy…" Daisuke saw a satisfied smirk cross his face, as if he had done something brilliant. Daisuke turned his gaze to his table- on it laid a plate with generous helpings of fruits, cooked eggs, and various sorts of breads. Pushing the question of how he got such things from his mind, he sat on the bed and pulled the plate onto his lap. He couldn't help but notice how fine a plate it was as he began to chew the food. The silver shone dimly in the light of the candles that illuminated the Angel's lair, the beautiful carvings of angels with various fruits almost taking on a life of their own. He also noticed how wonderful the food tasted, despite how fast he had been eating. He was hungry, as he had little to eat before he descended into the Angel's lair.

Daisuke's gaze was torn from his food and his eating slowed by the sound of the piano. This sound…it was unlike anything he had ever heard the Angel play. He felt compelled to move. Placing the plate and what was left on the bed, he rose to his feet and slowly moved toward the Angel. The Angel took little heed of him. His footsteps echoed slightly, but their sound was consumed by the music of the Angel's piano. This sound was unique, one that seemed to express so many emotions in a chaotic, beautiful sound. It was if his fingers wove a magic too wonderful and horrible to be fully appreciated. What kind of creature of heaven or earth could produce such a sound, Daisuke wondered to himself. What did he hide behind that mask…?

The piano playing stopped. The Angel spoke, but did not turn to face Daisuke.

"It isn't finished, this piece I play. But it will be our triumph. This piece…this piece only I can put into music and only you can sing." He flipped a page in the score and wrote something down with his black and crimson quill pen then placed the pen back into the murky black ink.

"What do you call it?" Daisuke found himself asking.

"Don Juan Triumphant."

"What is it about?"

"Anger. Betrayal." The Angel rose from his seat and faced Daisuke, an odd emotion he couldn't quite read on his face. "Love." This took Daisuke aback for some reason, that simple word evoking such power when coming from his lips. He felt his face flush slightly. "Passion." The Angel said, barely above a whisper, his voice intense. Daisuke stood before the Angel now, a small gap between them. The Angel closed it. Daisuke flush deepened. He looked into the Angel's eyes. They seemed to suck him in, to hold him and not let go. And he wasn't sure he wanted to be released from their grasp. "You heard it, didn't you?" The Angel whispered.

"Heard what?" Daisuke answered numbly.

"The passion of the music. A passion only you can communicate, Daisuke." The Angel said quietly. Daisuke merely nodded. He could hear it. It was passionate music. It was…the music of the Angel's soul.

"How can…how can your soul sound like that?" Daisuke asked softly. The Angel's eyes held a shocked look for a second, then recovered his usual quality. But he still saw it. It was unmistakable. Daisuke pressed on with renewed strength, that one flash in his eyes amplifying his will. His hand rose to the Angel's face, his fingers gently touched his mask. "What secrets do you hide, my mysterious Angel…?" Daisuke whispered. The Angel closed his eyes as if in bliss, not noticing that Daisuke's fingers had the edges of his mask. In a quick movement, Daisuke ripped off the mask. In a blur of red and sickly yellows and pale whites and blacks, the Angel threw Daisuke away from him and covered his face before he got a good look.

"YOU FOOL!" He thundered, his voice echoing throughout his lair, making his voice seem ten times louder then it should have. "YOU DAMNABLE FOOL! WHY DO YOU WISH TO LOOK UPON THE FACE OF A MONSTER?" He stumbled to the ground, his back turned to Daisuke, groping for where Daisuke had dropped his mask. Daisuke fell on his back, making no move to pull himself back up. He was in shock.

"My…my Angel, I only wished to see what you hide…" He said quietly, fear making his voice tremble.

"What I hide?" The Angel asked, his voice turning deathly silent. It sent shivers down Daisuke's spine. "What I hide is too cruel for your eyes to see. Do not wish to taint your innocence with the horrors of this monster." Monster, Daisuke thought. How could his Angel be a monster? His soul…his soul was a beautiful thing, the very sound of it making his own soul soar.

"You are no monster, you are my Angel…" Daisuke said, his voice rising. "And I think I deserve to know what you hide! You know of me, yet I know nothing of my teacher!" He stood on his feet and looked down at the crouched form that was the Angel. He started to take steps toward him. "I need to know. Why do you hide? Why has life lead you to live down here?" As he reached the black form of the Angel, he sat on his knees and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I need to know why you seem to shoulder so many burdens all by yourself. I know you do. I can hear it in your music…" The Angel said nothing, but rose up. "My Angel…" Daisuke murmured. The Angel said nothing, but turned around. What faced him was a sight that he would never forget.

Where the mask had been was not a face. Where the skin should have been a luminous pale color like the rest of his skin, was a mismatch of charred reds, sickly yellows, and raw pinks. These colors were thrown together over an area that was not smooth like a face should be, but rocky, as layers of skin jettisoned out and caved back in. Over his eyes was a lump of raw-colored skin that nearly drooped over his eyes, yet stopped just so that when the mask was worn his eye could be seen clearly. It was a horrible, ugly sight that neither God nor Lucifer could endure. And neither could Daisuke. He fainted.

End of Act 5, Scene 2

Act 5, Scene 3

With awoke in his bed in the boy's dorm as Daiki. With a little 'kyuu' he could not hold back, he raised his sleepy head and surveyed the scene. The other boys were still fast asleep, as the excitement of the opera had tired them all. But where was Daisuke? His eyes widened as his mind suddenly lurched out of its sleepy stupor. It was the voice again! The voice that came to sing at Daisuke through the walls, the one that would make him disappear for hours without an explanation. With had never seen the voice, the voice Daisuke claimed was his Angel of Music, but he knew it was what took him. He also knew all this he was not supposed to know, but Daisuke was all With had, and he hated not knowing where he was for hours at a time while Madame Emiko told him merely not to worry about his whereabouts. But he was actually in the room this time- what had happened? Why had he suddenly fallen asleep at such a crucial moment? And why was he now here in the boy's dorm? He had never left the safety of the desk.

"Daisuki…" With whispered sadly, flopping back onto his pillow and staring at the ceiling. Why must Daisuke be surrounded with a fog he could not pierce? Was it not his duty to watch over the boy and keep him safe? To at least be his confident and friend? At all this he failed. "What should I do?" It would be useless to pursue the matter with Madame Emiko. If she was even up, she would merely dodge his questions. And the doors to the rooms in which he would here the voice would always be locked. But…With started to get up, trying not to make much noise. It was worth a shot, wasn't it? Perhaps this one time the voice would be careless. With carefully opened the door the boy's room and slipped out, still being as silent as possible. Perhaps this one time he would catch an opening.

End of Act 5, Scene 3

Act 5, Scene 4

Dark was nearly skipping through the halls of the opera house, eliciting curses from the maids that were polishing the floors. His unruly deep purple hair bounced in front of his eyes. He brushed it out of his eyes as he paused to read the crumpled up paper in his hand one more time. In bold letters across the front page were the words 'TAKESHI DISAPPEARS ON OPENING NIGHT OF HANNIBAL, CHOURS BOY NIWA TRIUMPHS'. Ah, what beautiful words to his eyes! If only he could kiss the writer! He couldn't have written better publicity if he tried! The mystery, the scandal, the ticket prices of the Opera Populaire, he could feel them all rise at once! These sorts of headlines, this sort of gossip filled seats and his pocket book. Ah, the joy!

"Dark!" came the voice that he immediately recognized as Krad. He spun the opposite direction to face the worried face of his cleanly-kept partner.

"Krad, my boy, why so glum? Have you not seen the headlines? We're front page, Krad, front page!" He grinned and spread the crumpled page for him to see. Krad pulled the page down to look at Dark, his expression unchanged.

"Are you CONVIENTLY forgetting Takeshi will be livid with the fact we replaced him last night and most likely refuse to sing at tonight's opening of Il Muto and our little 'triumph' is missing?" Krad said, exasperated with Dark's loose attitude.

"A strange thing, opening one opera after another! Not only do we have ghosts, but we keep two shows going at the same time!" Dark said with a laugh. However, this laugh was hollow. That ghost, that phantom…his right hand shifted to his pocket and crunched the note inside. Just a stupid little prank.

"You know it keeps the audiences entertained, having two operas running at the same time. It is hard on the cast, but it sets us apart." Krad said with the tone of one who has had to explain this fact far more then once. "And," he added, a slight tone of discomfort in his voice, "I wonder if the ghost is worth more then just our ridicule…" Dark's head snapped to attention and his voice took on a defensive tone.

"It is nothing more then a prank they pull on us. Nothing. MORE." Krad looked at him, his eyes falling to his coat pocket.

"Then…" he said slowly, pulling out a note of a pale, sickly yellow color with a blood-red seal broken, the skull of the seal split ominously down the middle. "Why have I received one of these?" Dark's hand crushed the paper in his pocket. Stupid joke.

"Means nothing…" He muttered. Krad ignored him, and opened the note, clearing his voice.

"Monsieur Krad- I wish to congratulate you and Monsieur Dark on your fine choice of allowing the young and talented Daisuke Niwa to sing in the place of Monsieur Takeshi in last night's performance of Hannibal. Surly you shall wish your run of triumphant openings to continue? If so, Daisuke Niwa must sing tonight, and place the Monsieur Takeshi in the role of the pageboy. The silent role. This makes my casting quite obviously the ideal one. If my request is not met, then a curse shall befall the opera house. Your friend, O.G." Krad folded up the note and placed it back in his pocket, looking expectantly at Dark. Dark looked away, and placed his hand in his pocket, pulling out the paper in his pocket. Paper of a pale, sickly yellow color with a blood-red seal.

"Monsieur Dark," He began to slowly read, "I am afraid I must remind you that my dues have not yet been paid, as it appears Monsieur Kousuke saw it fit to leave this month's due in your care. Please leave my dues in the care of Madame Emiko as she watches over Box Five tonight. And remember, my box MUST be left empty for my use. Your friend, O.G." Dark crumpled the paper, increasing its many wrinkles. "What kind of fool does this O.G. take us for? Opera Ghost? Do we look like we would fall for such a joke?" He muttered darkly, tossing the paper onto the steps, eliciting more curses from the cleaning maids.

Krad never got the chance to answer. As he opened his mouth, the doors swung open as a frantic Riku de Changy burst into the room. She had her skirts gathered up in her hands as she quickly made her way up to the managers. While she was kept up in her usual finery and not a hair was out of place, she held about her the air of a woman in distress.

"Gentlemen!" she called, halting at the stairs. "Please tell me this note is a cruel joke of yours!" Her eyes seemed to plead with them as she lifted her left hand, in which she carried a note of a pale, sickly yellow the men were starting to wish to never see again.

"You too?" asked Dark darkly. Her eyes widened.

"I'm not the only one?" she asked quietly. Krad took out his own note.

"No, Madame. I'm afraid not."

"But…" she trailed off. "But…then who is telling me to never see Daisuke again? Why is our friendship such a problem for this Opera Ghost character?" she asked, her voice gaining strength in her confusion and worry.

"Madame, please do not ask us how a madman's mind works!" Dark exclaimed. "WE have no problem in your friendship with young Niwa as long as it does not affect his performance!" Riku's face seemed to have lightened slightly.

"Then, may I see him? Where is he?" she asked. Dark and Krad looked at each other, and Krad turned to face her with an uneasy look. Her heart sank.

"You know no more then we do. He's missing."

"Missing?" she asked quietly. But this comment was lost in the sound of the door swinging open in a loud manner for the second time that day, but instead of a lady bursting into a room, it was a gentleman. A very angry gentleman waving the same paper that Dark had been dancing with a few blissfully ignorant minutes before. And under the paper, hidden underneath the folds of the news and Takeshi's large thumb was a small piece of paper of the pale, sickly yellow variety.

"MONSEIURS!" thundered the form of the dethroned triumph of the Opera Populaire, Takeshi. "I DEMAND YOU EXPLAIN THESE!"

"Monsieur Takeshi," Krad began, trying to soothe the angry tenor, "You left us with no choice! The show had to go on!"

"OF COURSE I KNOW THAT! THAT IS WHY I ALWAYS WAIT OUTSIDE BEFORE THE PERFORMANCE IN MY CARRIAGE! DO YOU NOT KNOW THESE THINGS?" He thundered on. "AND WHAT IS WITH THIS NOTE YOU SEND ME, TELLING ME THAT…THAT BOY WILL BE SINGING IN MY PLACE TONIGHT!"

"We have sent no such note!" Dark snapped, getting clearly tired of all the accusations and yellow slips of paper.

"Then his friends have been PLOTTING and plan to scare me with this little note!" He said arrogantly, casting a nasty glance at Riku, who glared at him, disliking his accusing nature. "I have half a mind to leave!"

"Wouldn't miss you," muttered Riku under her breath, crossing her arms. Takeshi thankfully didn't hear.

"Monsieur Takeshi, we will not respond to threats, be they from a poor, deranged man who has it in his head that he's a ghost or from young Niwa's 'friends'." Krad said soothingly. He placed his arm around Takeshi's shoulders, who was still in a huff and was not pacified by Krad's words. Krad made a large sweeping motion with his hand not comfortingly draped on Takeshi's shoulders. "So, sing tonight. Let the whole world see the Opera Populaire's angel of music take flight once more!"

Riku's eye's snapped in Krad's direction the minute he uttered the words 'angel of music', and heard nothing else he said.

"Angel of music?" Riku muttered, biting her bottom lip. She saw not the inside of the Opera Populaire before her, but Daisuke's nervous face, his eyes continuously glancing at one rose out of the seeming millions of flowers in his room, the one with the black ribbon tied to its stem, his lips slowly forming the words 'Do you remember the stories? Of the Angel of Music? I've been visited by him,'. She shook her head. No, this Takeshi couldn't be Daisuke's angel. His voice was far different then the voice she heard in the dressing room, the voice that laughed at her in her dreams. But, then who was…?

Riku was brought back to reality by Takeshi leaving in the same form he came in, but this hustle was not in the direction of the front door, but in the direction of the back stage, and this bustle was not one of anger, but one coming out of a need for speed from a still rather ticked opera star.

"Thank god you're better at calming people's nerves, Krad!" Dark said with a grin, giving his other half a good, hearty slap on the back. From the sound of the impact, it would have made a lesser man wince, but Krad didn't bat an eye, obviously used to it.

"You handle the money, I handle the people. It's how we work." Krad replied, and the two followed Takeshi backstage.

Riku blinked.

"Wait," she muttered, "aren't we still worried about Daisuke?"

End of Act 5, Scene 4

Act 5, Scene 5

With leaned on the mirror in Daisuke's dressing room, closing his eyes tightly and sliding down the slick glass to sit at its base. Daisuke wasn't here. He wasn't ANYWHERE. He looked under everything, tapped on every wall to see if any part was hollow, looked for creases in the floor, tried his best to pull the large pieces of furniture from the walls, nothing! He couldn't find how he kept disappearing, or find where he was. He pulled his knees up to his chin and buried his face in them. He really wished his human form had larger ears, because he couldn't cover his face with those stupid little stubs on the side of his face. Only his hair could do that, and he didn't have as much as he would have liked at the moment.

"Kyuu…" He muttered without thinking, trying his best not to cry. And it was hard. He felt like a failure. He failed at being a friend, at watching out for him, at protecting him! And now he was missing.

Stand up, he thought. Get out of his room. You'll only become more and more upset, then you'll start crying, and if your eyes are red, you'll loose face with the other boys. He complied with his thoughts, and blankly moved up and out of the room, his face blank, his body on autopilot. The word 'failure!' echoed through his head continuously.

That is, until he got to the boy's dorm and saw Daisuke sleeping peacefully on his bed.

Despite his relief, he couldn't bring himself to wake the boy.

He softly closed the door behind him, turned into his usual form, and hid under his own bed to let out all the tears he had held in.

His eyes tended to be less red that way.

End of Act 5, Scene 5

Act 5, Scene 6

Word soon raced through the back stage of the opera house that Daisuke had been found, was sleeping, and would take part in tonight's performance. When Takeshi heard, he acted like he did not care, but inside he was seething. The boy was a favorite of the patron (Not like this idea threatened him, of course!), a favorite of the dance teacher (Not that she mattered, of course!), and a favorite of some deranged lunatic thinking he was the undead who had THE NERVE to drop a backdrop on him (His opinion to whether the brat was his favorite to him should not even be in question, thank you very much!). And even though he was not in the least bit threatened by these people, it got under his skin that there were people that simply could not recognize his musical genius! He was flawless to anyone who could see, and people who were blind could simply go die in the street somewhere for all he cared.

So, not only was he irked by the fact that the Niwa brat hadn't turned up dead in some river bank somewhere, but by the fact he wasn't able to immediately get into his dressing room because they were having trouble moving all the brat boy's flowers out. AND, to add insult to injury, some of the stage hands had been referring to the dressing room as 'Niwa's Room' while they were moving the flowers!

Needless to say, they were reprimanded firmly. So firmly, that the animal hands had complained his scolding had spooked the animals all the way back in the stables.

Takeshi took to pacing and ranting outside the dressing room. Were they moving slowly on PURPOSE? Didn't they realize that the curtain was going to open soon? It took him a LONG time to get into make-up (The stupid women HARDLY knew what they were doing! Of course he informed them of their poor job and made them do it until it was perfect!) and to get into costume! Did they NOT want him to grace them with his presence? He snorted.

"Blind fools! Blind, ignorant fools!" He exclaimed, seeming to talk to no one and eliciting stares from the new people among the staff and those just not used to his angry outbursts.

"Two hours, everyone! Everything should be ready soon!" yelled a stage hand clutching a rolled-up script. Takeshi stomped his foot and glared daggers at those moving out the flowers and readying his place in the dressing room.

"You HEAR THAT? TWO HOURS. JUST TWO! I NEED IN THERE NOW!"

"Um…Monsieur…" said one timidly, taking a step toward the angry opera star.

"DID YOU NOT HEAR ME, YOU DEAF AND DUMB FOOL? TWO HOURS! I NEED IN THERE NOW!" He screeched.

"It's ready, monsieur…," the boy said, almost speaking at a whisper as he bit his bottom lip. The poor child was not used to being yelled at so. Without saying another word, Takeshi stormed into his dressing room, calling for the incompetent make-up women, slamming the door behind him. After all, the boy was too timid, and would not have gotten yelled at if he had said his point earlier. Of course he need not to apologize!

Takeshi looked around the dressing room and a ghost of an approving look reached his face, for there was no sign that the brat had been here. His large mirror that adorned almost the entire left wall had not a smudge on it. The gold lining of his mirror shone brilliantly. The dark wood of the room's furniture (for dark wood would simply not do! His hair was dark, and the dark wood would not allow him to stand out as well in the room, obviously!) was dusted and shone with a soft glow, down to the last carving carefully etched on the furniture's exterior. The walls were clean of any marks, and no flower petals were anywhere in sight. The room's smell was the only thing wrong- it smelled softly of the flowers that had resided there overnight. That, and there was something odd that hung in it that he could not quite place. It was almost a wet smell, it was definitely dank, and it became every so slightly stronger as he walked toward his wardrobe. The smell was not the only odd thing about the room, for he just noticed a small note that hung off his wardrobe by a small ribbon.

A small, black ribbon.

A note whose paper was a pale, sickly yellow color.

A note which read

'Monsieur Takeshi-

My greatest congratulations on your upcoming performance tonight, which I am sure will be your greatest. As a token of my wishes of luck to you, I have left you a present which will undoubtedly leave a pleasant scent on your costumes tonight. Perhaps this scent will remind you of my wishes and allow you to sing as best as you can!

Yours Always,

Your Dearest Fan'

He crumpled the note, and scoffed. He was no fool! He knew this paper! It was the BRAT'S friends at work! Well, he thought as he threw the note to the floor, it is a mere scent! Nothing like that could possibly throw me off, no matter how putrid! Or, do they wish for me to fear to open this wardrobe because of what might possibly be in it, forbid anyone else to do so, thus take away my costumes and ruin the show? A determined look came over his features and his eyes grew fearless.

That's just what they want! I do not fear them! I take your challenge, blind and deaf fools!

He threw open the wardrobe door.

And out fell a someone or something- Takeshi couldn't tell from the beginning shock of having a heavy force fall on top of him. The smell was consuming- it was wet, heavy, and dank, reminding him of what the water below the opera house must smell like if he were to ever smell it. He gagged, and struggled to push the heavy weight off him. But this was not easy, as the weight was slick from what must have been water, was slightly mushy and thus was hard to get a hold of to push off, and was sickeningly cold to the touch. Sort of felt like skin if one sat in a ice-cold bath for a long, long time. And there was this sopping-wet thing on his face that felt a lot like hair. And attached to that hair-like substance was something like…a…face…

His eyes widened in only a way eyes can widen when they are consumed by pure terror.

His mouth opened and shook in only a way a mouth would when a body could not find their voice from pure disgust.

But his voice did not stay hidden for long.

Years later, it was still talked about how amazingly well Takeshi could project his voice, and there was no better example of this then the time he found Buquet's body in his wardrobe before the opening of Il Muto.

Sadly enough, no other examples of his amazing projection could be found other then this, because Takeshi unfortunately had caused his dresser to fall on top of him while scrambling to get out of his dressing room, and the glass of the mirror on that had shattered, piercing and slicing him in inconvenient places, causing his death. There was much talk afterward that Takeshi didn't have the strength, even in such terror, to cause a dresser to fall on top of him if he crashed into it. And it was also said the force of the glass should not have pierced him in such ways because there should not have been enough force. But this was never looked into, for who takes seriously the talk of the silly staff of an opera house?

End of Act 5, Scene 6

End of Act 5

So. I don't know about you, but Takeshi/Carlotta was annoying and didn't serve any good points past the Il Muto bit, so I killed him off. I know his death was sorta lame, but come on! How many ways can you die in a dressing room? I guess if you really thought about it, there could be more creative/cooler ways to die, but his death wasn't really important like Buquet, who was only important 'coz he was the first kill. Plus, I wanted to get the ending OVER WITH and update. o.o And in case anyone didn't pick up on it, Satoshi had a hand in helping the dresser over. And where the glass landed. How he did this?

Hell, I don't know. He's just SKILLED like that. Did he use his special passageways to help the dresser over? Did he use amazing ninja-like speed to make sure that Takeshi's throat was slit? WE DON'T KNOW. That's what I love about having such a genius of a character like the Phantom/Satoshi. You can explain stuff like this away with a simple 'He's just skilled like that'. XD

Anyways, I'll have my friend Amanda (maybe Lara if I can get her to read my fic. ) annoy the hell out of me until I make good uploading speed on the rest of the acts/intermissions. (And if you personally want to make sure, my email that I check most often is Feel free to send me an email with the title 'STOP BEING A LAZY-ASS! I WANT FANFICTION!' if you feel it. 'Coz unless people hold me to it, I tend to forget to do stuff. o.o But, I'll be trying to stop being so lazy on my own. So, please don't loose faith in me! I'll be trying my best, everyone!