----------------------------------
Chapter 2: Burning Kitazawa
----------------------------------
I hate many things on this planet, but perhaps, at this moment, I hate nothing more than morning.
You know, if the sun set and never rose again, I don't think I would be exceptionally bereaved of its presence.
"Eiri. Phone for you!"
"Callbacklater," I grumble, and pull the pillow over my head. I woke up with a goddamn headache, and he's not helping one bit.
"Mizuki-chan, he's being grumpy. Can he call you back?"
I'm up in a flash, trying to get the phone from Shuichi, who is already bathed and dressed. He went to bed at eleven o'clock. I, on the other hand, stayed up until three in the morning working on 'Tangerine'. Shuichi moves his hand out of the way, holding the phone behind his back.
"Give me the phone, brat."
"Give me a good morning kiss?"
"GIVE. ME. THE. PHONE."
I try to lunge at him, but due to the fact that I'm all tangled up in the sheets, like a fly in a spider web, I take a dive off the bed. My head hits the floor with a resounding thud. When my vision finally clears, Shuichi is upside-down. He kneels next to me, laughing softly, and gently places his lips against my forehead.
"Kiss it better for you?" he whispers, slipping the phone into my fingers.
"Well, it is your fault, after all, baka."
"Hehehehehe." Shuichi crooks one finger and pushes some errant hairs behind my ear. The mere brush of a touch against one of my decidedly more sensitive spots makes me have to suppress the urge to thrash about like a fish on a hook. "I'm off to work, okay?"
"I thought you were done with your album."
"Well, just because we finished recording doesn't mean all the work is done.
Fuck. I thought...I thought he was going to have some time off, now. If he's out and about...then Lucy... No. It's okay. NG is alright. He's protected there. And, with Shuichi in a safe place, that will give me time to investigate.
"I'll be back around seven," Shu says, standing up. He looks infinitely taller from this angle. "Later, gator!"
"Shu..." Don't go. Stay here today, with me. We could...you know...stay in bed or watch TV or... No. Nevermind. That was an odd impulse...for so early in the morning. I guess I'm just tired.
"Hmmmm?"
"Don't forget your phone."
"Okay! Bye!" Shuichi slips out of the room, filled with enough energy to power a large carnival, and disappears down the hall.
Hm. He didn't tell me he loved me. I wonder why he...didn't say...
A static laden voice comes from my hand, "Yuki-san? Are you there? Hello? Hello?"
I put the cellphone to my ear as I try to untangle myself from the sheets and get my body into a sitting position. Not that Mizuki much cares if I am sitting, or standing, or freakin' about to set myself on fire and leap off a building as long as the book is done on time.
"It's not done," I say. I wonder if she is going to call me every day for the next three weeks.
"Hm? Oh yes. Good. I'm extending your deadline, anyway. We want to put it out when summer is in full-spin. Too many people are trying to corner the summer book market by releasing in May, but I am delaying yours until June and... Nevermind. That's not why I called."
Cigarettes. I need...cigarettes. And a lighter. Where the hell is my... Oh, there it is. Now I need my glasses. I'm the fucking undead this morning. I never sleep well... Come to think of it, I can't remember the last time I slept more than two or three hours straight. "Why did you call, then?"
"You have to get dressed, right away. There's a luncheon, a fundraiser, that I just found out about this morning, and you -need- to go."
"No." That's the absolute -last- thing I -need- to do today. "I don't give a fuck about the whales, the homeless, or the illiterate deforested wombat of Nigeria."
"No, no. It's not..." Mizuki mumbles something to someone who walked into her office, something about coffee, and then returns to our conversation. "It's to raise money for a library for the Wildflower House in Kisarazu. But, that's not what's important. You have to go. Akasugi Naoko is going to be there..."
What the fuck? That guy never leaves his house! Why is he showing up at some two-bit fundraiser luncheon?
"And if he shows up, and you're not there to take some of the spotlight away from him, his 'good deed' is going to totally kill us in the trades next week."
Fucking hell.
If there is a God, if there is someone looking down on us, judging us from above...
I'm absolutely certain he hates me with a special sort of loathing.
He hates me the way Indiana Jones hates snakes.
I hang up on Mizuki after getting the address, and dial another number. No reason to keep from multitasking. I can do this. I can manage this. A man answers, his British accent thick and syrupy over his Japanese.
"Music library. Tag here."
"Get me everything on the movements of the Lampyridae over the past two years."
"That you, Michael? You should come visit. I've got some great new cigars."
Grrrr. I'm too sleepy. I scrounge around in my brain, trying to find my social skills. They've got to be in there somewhere. "Yeah. That sounds great. Are you going to get the goddamn files, or what?"
"That's a lot of stuff, but...I think I can send you a sizeable bulk of it in a couple of hours. Will that work?"
"Yeah."
For once...
Someone is helpful.
"And Tag...don't tell Seguchi."
-------------------------------
I hate these affairs. Completely ludicrous events. I look at the plates and dishes in front of me. So, kids at this Wildflower House need a library? Is that it? Well, why not sell this goddamn gold-edged dinnerware? The porcelain vase in the middle of the table, the one containing a very expensive flower arrangement, why not sell it? It takes a phenomenal amount of money to put on one of these swank affairs. So why not just donate it instead of wasting my time?
I will tell you why. Because some old biddy wants to show off for her throng of friends, that's why. These old women have nothing better to do than spend their time making a circus out of philanthropy.
"I'm so glad you came, Yuki-san," the wrinkled old Yuugai-san says, deigning to pat my hand with hers. She's wearing about five hundred rings. It's amazing that the old bat can even lift her arm. "My friends and I all adore your writing." She leans close to me, her thick kimono rustling with every movement. Good lord, her breath smells like salmon. "And between you and me, you're so much more dignified than that one."
She nods her head towards the end of the table.
Akasugi.
The man looks like some sort of lost space alien. He's wearing a long-sleeved black dress. A dress, for fucksakes. The metallic blue piping and insets match the shocking blue highlights in his black hair, which, like his face, appears to be slathered in glitter. And, to top it all off, the man is wearing a pair of costume butterfly wings.
What a foppish idiot.
No wonder his people don't let him go outside.
I've never seen him in person before, though. He's so pale, you can almost see the blue-green veins beneath his skin. And he's so fucking thin, I suspect that if he walked outside, a slight breeze might carry him away.
Oh, that's right. He's a vegetarian. The lack of meat must be getting to his brain.
Nonetheless, I can tell...with one look at that lean face...those grey eyes...he's a predator. He's here for some reason -other- than charity.
"Are you alright, Yuki-san?" Yuugai-san asks, patting my hand again. Damnable touchy-feely decrepit nutter.
"Yes, thank you," I reply, pulling my hand away as I stand up, "I'm just in need of some air. If you will excuse me for a moment."
Yuugai-san smiles, stars in her wrinkle-lined eyes, "Of course. I hope you'll be back in time for the auction?"
I nod and make my way through the room. There's probably about five dozen people here, and another two dozen perusing the items up for auction in the next room over. The formal hall is a grossly opulent affair, overblown with antique chandeliers and heavy oil paintings adorning the walls. It reminds me of something from a Bronte novel. Not that I read that sort of crap for anything more than research, of course.
I make my way to the French doors and out onto the balcony. I need a smoke, and to calculate exactly how much more time I need to spend here before making an exit that isn't considered rude.
I should be writing.
I should be tracking down Lucy.
I should be trying to figure out what to do about the rock star that has installed himself in my house.
I should be doing any of these things, but instead, I am trapped here, in this insane farce, with society's privileged class of completely useless wastes of flesh, auctioning off several signed first editions. If they wanted money, I would have given them money. That would have been mildly respectable. But, no, this is like a meat market, and I am the next fucking whore up for sale.
I lean against the stone railing, mildly amused that someone has actually gone through the trouble of importing the world's most hideous gothic architecture to Japan. At least the garden is still a traditional one. The sound of the small pond is utterly soothing. I wonder if anyone will notice if I just hang out here for an hour or two...
"Yuki Eiri-san, isn't it?"
Let me die now. As soon as I get home, I'm calling Mizuki and demanding she hang herself.
His voice is a lot lower and quieter than I expected. Of course, -I- expected him to sound like a muppet. Nonetheless, it slices with a knowing edge, mild flippancy hidden beneath politeness, a razor blade hidden in molasses. "I was so glad you showed up here. You know, I only came because my publicist said you'd been invited."
I turn around, exhaling smoke in his direction. Unfortunately, Akasugi's standing too far away to be encompassed by the cloud. He raises his hand and pets a trellis of ivy, as if it were some sort of small furry animal.
"Strange," I reply, "I had no idea you were going to be here."
The presumptuous smile on his face slips a couple of millimeters. Ahh, take him down a notch, that's it.
"A lovely charity, don't you think? Mmm. Yes. But me, I'm not much of one for these affairs. Entirely too depressing." Akasugi steps forward, the outdoor air catching his plastic and gauze wings, making them twitch slightly. He looks a great deal like a dying insect, now that I think about it.. When he's within arm's reach of me, Akasugi slides his rump onto the concrete railing. Staring at me with manufactured intensity, Akasugi continues, "I've read all of your books, you know? Even 'Smoke and Mirrors'. I think the critics were far too harsh on it. It's a bewitching tale. You have such a remarkable talent for tragedy."
You have no idea, asshole.
"I'm afraid I've never read any of yours," I say. Maybe if I am rude enough, he'll get the point and drift away.
"Now..." Akusugi licks his lips, very deliberately. Is he...trying to seduce me? He wouldn't be...trying to score a cheap fuck, would he? "I don't think that's true, Yuki-san. What is it you said about me in 'Letters' two months ago? Hm? What was it?" Akasugi taps one of his hideously long fingernails against his cheek, "Oh yes. 'Akasugi-san's book 'Rhapsody' will appeal only to hormonal teenage girls and a population of lonely middle-aged gay men.' Tsk tsk."
I wonder. If I push him off the railing, will he hit his head hard enough on the stone walkway below to make him permanently brain damaged? Hm. Probably not any more than he already is. Crap.
"You're pretty when you lie, Yuki Eiri."
How do you say 'Go play in rush hour traffic' in the language of flamingly gay butterfly men?
I opt for the straightforward route. "I'm not interested."
The smirk on Akasugi's face widens as he shakes his head, tossing his hair around for absolutely no reason whatsoever. I guess he thinks he's sexy. And, maybe he is...but I'm not into men. No, I mean...there's Shuichi...and some others before that but...
No, it's not that I dislike men. Or women, for that matter. I'm just not...into -people-. Well, long-term relationships with people, anyway. No, that's not it, either. I...
Why am I turning down Akasugi?
It's not like Shuichi would ever know. And why should I care if he did? I mean, maybe he'd leave me, then. Wouldn't that be better for him, anyway? I'm never going to be able to become what Shuichi wants...no...what Shuichi deserves.
I just...
I'm not interested in Akasugi.
That's it. That's all it is. He's just not my type. That's all.
Do I have a type?
Akasugi leans back on his hands and raises one of his feet. He rubs the toe of his blue velvet slipper against my pants, sliding it down my thigh and into the crook of my knee. Unfortunately, I flinch. "Oh, but I'm interested in you, Yuki Eiri. Very interested. You might even say...that I'm fascinated. And when Naoko-chan gets fascinated by something pretty, he chases it, no matter where it might run."
"Go right ahead," I reply, thinking utterly devious thoughts. I take the end of my cigarette and apply it forcibly to the side of his slipper. The velvet sizzles and smokes as the fire extinguishes. Akasugi yelps like an injured dog and jerks his foot away. "Just find some more sensible shoes before you try it."
As I walk back towards the reception hall, I hear Akasugi moaning softly about his 'burnt footsie'.
That should deter him from ever talking to me again.
Finally, finally...
Score one for Yuki Eiri...
And the devastating power of the cigarette.
------------------------------
By the time I return home, it's almost two o'clock in the afternoon. I take off my suit and put on something more comfortable. I click my email to find that, yes, in fact Tag -has- sent me the files I requested.
I dash off a quick email...
---
Email To: Mizuki(at)looseleaf.com.jp
From: saintsebastian(at)looseleaf.com.jp
Subject: Damnit.
Mizuki,
I'm serious. No more charity functions. AND ABSOLUTELY UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES WILL YOU EVER SCHEDULE ME TO BE WITHIN ONE MILE OF AKASUGI NAOKO. Or, I swear, my next novel will be written on strips of your dried flesh.
E.
P.S. Here's the sixth chapter of 'Tangerine'. Can you suggest ways to rearrange the diner scene so it flows better?
---
After I delete the sentence containing the threat, I send off the email and get to work. Tag's sent me volumes and volumes of stuff. I hate to see what else he has in his file cabinets. As Lead Researcher for Exile, Tag knows more about Lampyridae than probably even Seguchi.
According to the files, Lampyridae's headquarters is suspected to currently be in Kyoto. They aren't really active here in Tokyo, probably because they are afraid of Exile getting involved.. As far as Exile's researchers can tell, Lucy has structured Lampyridae much like Exile. There are a half-dozen top operatives, supported by a staff of lesser agents.
And then I get into the suspected Lampyridae actions over the past few months...
And I feel mildly ill.
Killing people is killing people, sure. It's butchery, no matter how you look at it. I'm sure that the man I killed yesterday had a wife. I know he did. He had a wedding ring. But, he was a predator. A monster attacking little girls. Exile never...I don't...
I don't kill for sport. Or for money. I hate people, but I don't kill them because I hate them. I just want...to save someone from...
Becoming me.
But he... He likes what he does. He likes to make them suffer.
Lucy believes that pain redeems you.
And if you experience hell on Earth, you've been purified, you've been cleansed...made immaculate. Lucy sends them back to their creator, pre-punished.
He wasn't always so cruel. This sickness is new.
I rather liked him when he was Uriel...
When he was my partner.
Now...now he's coming for me. I guess he feels it's time that I become pure again. But, why Shuichi? Why involve Shuichi? Even Lucy wouldn't go so far, would he, as to destroy an innocent just to make me pay.
Would he?
-------------------------------
I spend most of the early afternoon delving into file after file. There's so much information that it is mind boggling. Unfortunately, less than one percent of it is useful. According to the files, Lampyridae has ties to the yakuza. Ties to the Italian mafia. Ties to the CIA. Lampyridae has suspected investments in the media. In the music industry. In movies. Sports. Industry. Corporations. Convenience stores. Designer fashion. There's even a small essay on the possibility that the Lampyridae run kiddie porn sites just to find perverts. It's all so much unsubstantiated crap. Except for the police files on the assassinations we believe to have been done by Lucy or one of his agents, the whole thing reads like the fucking Illuminatus Trilogy.
After about the five hundredth file, and god knows how many cigarettes, my eyes begin to get blurry. I need a break. This stuff is going to make me psychotic.
If I'm not already, which is a possibility I -have- considered.
That would be a terribly -convenient- excuse for my behavior, wouldn't it?
Shit. I need a beer or six.
But, something...is...odd...suddenly. I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Immediately, my hand slips underneath my desk, as I search for the latch to the secreted drawer containing my emergency weapon.
It's just a small knife. It's not like I keep guns here, or anything. I don't like guns. And, if Shuichi ever found it...I'd just tell him that it was because I was worried about the paparazzi breaking into my flat.
See? I have everything under control. I am the master of my domain. Nothing gets by me, because I am always alert, and -always- prepared.
"Kumagoro says you'd have to be pretty fast to kill us with that little butter knife, Michael."
WHAT. THE. FUCK?
I spin around in my chair to find a grinning Sakuma Ryuichi, his stupid stuffed toy in tow, sitting on the divan in my office. He plasters the most triumphantly victorious grin on his face and tosses the toy up in the air, catching it a second later on his head.
Rule number three for writers and assassins: All the ninjas, be they real or fictional, have to die.
No. Strike that. I don't like that rule. Too pithy.
Hm. I wonder if Tangerine should turn out to be a ninja. Chicks dig strong women who also happen to be very emotionally vulnerable, don't they? Maybe Mizuki could get it made into some sort of shoujo video game.
Fuck. No time to think about that. There's a shinobi with a shit-eating grin sitting in my office.
"How the fuck did -you- get in here? Nevermind. I don't care. Just leave."
"Kumagoro stole Shuichi's key three months ago and made a copy. You know, Michael, just between you and I, I think Kuma-chan's been entertaining thoughts of strangling you in your sleep. He's one bad motherbunny....shut yo' mouth!"
What do I have to do to get him to -leave-? Maybe leave a trail of Pocky to the door? "Get out of my goddamn house, Raphael."
"Mm. Don't you want to know why I'm here?" Sakuma stands up and skips to the door, "Follow the bouncing bunny, Michael. Follow. Follow, na no da. There's something you need to see."
Reluctantly, I pry myself out of my chair, rolling my eyes as much as humanly possible, and engage in a game of follow-the-idiot. He leads me into the living room and heads straight for my television. After trying to convince the damn toy to turn it on, he gives up and finally does it himself.
The picture pops in, and Raphael jumps backwards, almost as if he were startled that he figured out how to work the damn thing.
"Look!" He points at the screen, and then peers over his shoulder at me.
A newscaster is standing in front of a burning building, speaking so rapidly that it takes a moment for me to parse her words. "...fire broke out in the Kitazawa shopping district today. Although it has since been quelled, the empty warehouse you see behind me has been completely destroyed. Thankfully, no one is thought to have been injured in the blaze. Police have not yet found a cause for the fire, but one unnamed source has reported that arson is possibly involved..."
"So?" I ask.
"The warehouse belonged to White Angel Industries. They make toilet paper, na no da. Really soft stuff." The idiot shinobi tilts his head to one side, and then the other, blinking at me. "Think about it, Michael."
Kitazawa. Angels. Oh, I get it alright. You could have just emailed me, Lucy, if you wanted to leave a message.
"This is all because of you! Shuichi is in trouble, and it is all your fault." Sakuma storms up to me and pokes me in the chest with an outstretched finger, "Do you ever think of anyone besides yourself? Why is it that everyone around you ends up insane or hurt? You know, I really wish you'd joined Lampyridae when you had the chance. Because then...then Shu-chan...then..."
I grab his finger and push him away. He's got a lot of tricks, that ninja, but he's not particularly strong. Sakuma stumbles backwards, losing the toy in the process. He bends down, scrambling for the thing as if he can't stand to be parted with it for even a second.
Sometimes...I just don't understand him.
"I can handle this myself," I say, walking to the door and opening it. Maybe he'll get the fucking idea, for once. "Nobody knows..."
"Nobody knows Lucy like you do, is that right, na no da? But, Michael, don't you realize it goes the other way, too? No one knows you, like Lucy." Sakuma strides out the door, marching like a lost soldier in the battle for his own sanity, "Say, Kumagoro, I wonder where Shuichi is...right now. Don't you?"
I slam the door behind him and race to my computer.
Shuichi will be at NG. Of course he will be. Why would he go anywhere else? And, even if he did go somewhere, Gabriel would shoot anyone who got within twenty feet of Shuichi. I mean that was the whole point of me asking Seguchi to make him Shu's manager.
I press the key sequence to bring up the map of Tokyo. Shuichi is...
Not. At. NG.
But, at least he's not anywhere near the Kitazawa shopping district. Where the hell is that? That's a residential district on the east side of Tokyo. Why is Shuichi -there-?
I should call him.
No. No, I shouldn't.
Yes. Yes I should. Maybe he's been kidnapped.
Well, maybe he -hasn't- been kidnapped, and then he's going to want to know why I called.
I'll call NG. That's it. I'll call the recording studio at NG. Maybe they will know where he is, and why.
I pick up the phone and dial the Bad Luck studio.
"Good afternoon, Sakano here. How may I be of assistance today?"
Something about that man's voice just makes me cringe. He's just...he's...too polite. Either Sakano is truly the nicest, most naive guy in the music industry, or he's hiding some burning secret behind those glasses. Seguchi seems to like him well enough, though.
"Where's Shuichi?"
"Yuki-san, is that you? Shindou-san? Oh he's...well..." Sakano trails off, as if thinking up a lie. I hate people who can't lie well. Well, I suppose that isn't true. Shuichi can't lie worth a damn, and I don't loathe him. Generally find myself annoyed by him, yes, loathe him, no. "Shindou-san isn't scheduled to be in the studio today. I do hope there isn't any trouble between you and him?"
"That's none of your business. I just want to know where he is."
"I couldn't say, Yuki-san. Should we be worried for Shindou-san, for some reason?"
"No."
I hang up the phone without so much as a goodbye. Alright. Alright. Now is not the time to panic. I am not the sort of person who panics. I know right where Shuichi is. I can see it on the map in front of my face.
There is no reason to freak out.
Why am I freaking out?
I pick up the phone and dial Shuichi. It rings five times before he picks up. Five. He always answers right away when it's me...
"Helloooo!" Shuichi says, sounding as bubbly as ever, "Eiri! Hello! You called me! You never call me!"
I guess there was no reason to panic, after all. Still I... I wonder where he is. Not that I care. Shuichi can do whatever he wants. I'm just worried because there's a crazed killer on the loose. That's the only reason...
"Shu..."
"Hmmm? What's up?"
"Do you..." How do I find out what he is doing without asking him, point blank? "Do you need me to pick you up after work, or will Nakano-san be bringing you home?"
"Uh...um..." What's that sound in the background? Is that a man's voice? Who is that? "No, that's really sweet of you, but I'm...uh...I've already called a taxi to pick me up from NG, so, don't worry about it. Say, did you see on the news about the fire at the Kitazawa shopping district? That's so scary, isn't it? That warehouse was right next door to one of the NG CD shipping warehouses. Good thing the fire didn't spread, huh? That would have been so bad!"
"Yeah. Bad. So, you are on your way home?"
Why do I keep calling it 'home'? I never said he could live here. Except he does, and he has, for the past two years. Do I see this as his home, too? No, I don't. If I start referring to it like that, he might get the idea that I want him to stay with me. And, although I do want him to stay, I -shouldn't- want him to stay. If I have even a gram of compassion or rational sense left anywhere in my body, I shouldn't want Shuichi to be anywhere near me.
"Yeah. I'm coming home. Um. Okay, I have to go now. Sakano needs me to sign some papers so...okay bye!"
"Shu..."
"I'll be home soon!"
The line goes dead, and I am torn between three different realizations.
First, the assassin in me realizes that Shuichi just lied to me.
Second, some small voice in the back of my head remembers that Shuichi still hasn't told me that he loves me today.
Third, the romance novelist in me declares that 'Tangerine' is a ridiculous name for a character. Maybe I should trash this whole concept and start again.
----------------------------
I'm sitting on the couch, drinking my third beer by the time I hear Shuichi outside. I know, as usual, he's fumbling around in his backpack for his keys. He's chronically unorganized.
I cleaned out his backpack once while he was sleeping. Alright, it wasn't so much cleaning as...perhaps you could call it 'spying'. Not really spying, either. I thought... Well, I was -concerned- (not worried) at the time because Shuichi had been acting strange. I thought maybe one of those other stupid musicians might have, somehow, gotten Shuichi interested in drugs. I mean, he's such an idiot, he'd probably do it, too. Shuichi trusts -everyone-, even people who want to hurt him.
Yeah, he had been acting strange. This was, what, about three months ago? He just sorta slunk around my apartment, this blank look on his face, acting like he just heard the news that he had brain cancer or something. I asked him, once and only once, what the hell his problem was, but he just shrugged and said, "Nothing". Nothing, my ass. Still, what am I supposed to do, pick him up by the hair and shake him until he tells me?
At any rate, he seemed to shake himself out of his funk after a week or so. I still don't know what the hell that was all about.
But, yes, I looked through his backpack because I was -concerned- about drugs. I mean, having an idiot living in my house is one thing, but having some drug-addled thieving junkie living in my house is completely another. Really, I don't care at all if Shuichi wants to ruin himself by destroying his brain more than it already is. But, since I -am- sleeping with him, isn't it my right to know if he has any bad habits would could possibly end up getting the both of us sick?
But, there weren't any drugs in his backpack. Just CDs, plastic bracelets, candy, some ragged old notebooks scribbled with the most vapidly insipid lyrics ever concocted, his phone, and a packaged condom which looked to be a half-decade old.
I threw it out.
He never noticed. Or, at least, he didn't say anything if he did.
I hear Shuichi slide into the foyer, calling a perky "Tadaima" as he slips off his shoes. He appears in the living room moments later, bouncing towards me like the world's largest rubber band ball. He pounces onto the couch next to me, throwing his arms around my midsection, barreling into me with such magnificent aplomb that I imagine I might have bruises tomorrow.
He's so...close...and...
I feel so far away.
Why did you lie to me today, Shuichi? I thought you would never lie to me. I don't understand what is going on with...me. Why is it that your touch makes me so scared? Why is it that the tighter you cling to me, the further away I feel? Like I can't feel you at all...I can't hear you...or see you anymore.
No. I don't care. You lied to me. You weren't supposed to lie.
This world, where I am a romance novelist living with a rock star, is already a lie. Shuichi, if you lie, too, then...
It cancels out the fantasy.
"Give me some of your beer! I'm thirsty," he says, finally extricating himself from my torso. Those beautiful eyes sparkle at me, so devoid of pretense, so...sincere. How does he manage to look so innocent?
Is this...maybe, not the first time he's lied to me?
Is Shuichi just...playing me...somehow? All along, has he been -toying- with me?
But, I thought that... I thought that he really was in -love- with me.
He said it so often. And, it was written, in his notebooks in his backpack. Over and over and over. "I love you, Yuki Eiri. I love you. I love you."
"Take the whole goddamn beer." I shove the can in his hands and stand up. I don't care what he's saying now. I have to get away from him. I have to figure this all out. I have to...
I slam the door to my office and lock it. I'm sitting in my chair before I know it.
Am I sweating? Is it hot in here? Why are my hands shaking? I'm in control of this situation. I know what is a lie, and I know what is real.
It was real, wasn't it?
But, I...
I thought you really liked me, sensei. I thought you did. I never imagined you would lie to me.
I never imagined...
"Eiri..." Shuichi's voice floats into the room, sugar and cinnamon and sweetness. If I cover my ears, I won't be able to hear him lying to me. I can keep this fantasy going. I can. "What's wrong? Let me in, please?" He pounds on the door, softly at first, and then with all of his might. "Let me IN!"
No.
I don't let anyone in.
I should have never...
It was real, wasn't it?
I fumble with the bottom drawer of my desk. There, underneath piles of dictionaries and reference manuals, I find an old worn copy of Edith Hamilton's 'Mythology'. I run my fingers down the spine, lightly, hoping...hoping...
Flip. Flip. Flip.
I put it in here. I know I did...right? It was real. It was real.
And there, tucked into the pages of the story of Endymion, I find a small scrap of paper. Gingerly, I pull it out, and unfold it.
Here it is.
I knew it.
"I love you, Yuki Eiri. I love you. I love you so much."
Those loops of red crayon. Those little pink and blue hearts. He wrote it. He wrote it down, so, it has to be true, right?
It has to be...
Because only a cruel monster would spend his time writing lies.
-----------------------------
In Our Next Chapter: Yuki follows Shuichi to find out where he's going during the day. And he, most definitely, will not like what he finds. Between the messages from Lucy, being pursued by his psychotic and flamingly gay rival, trying to finish his novel, and trying to figure out what Shuichi is doing, will Yuki Eiri even have enough time to smoke a goddamn cigarette?
Author Notes:
Illuminatus Trilogy - A massive compendium of conspiracy theory written by Robert Shay and Robert Anton Wilson
Bronte novels - See Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, and Wuthering Heights. These novels are especially beloved of young, idealistic women, and not typical fare for men.
Edith Hamilton's 'Mythology' - Endymion the shepherd is pursued by Selene, the moon. He falls into a deep sleep by her powers, and is never allowed to partake of her beauty, and remains there forever on the grassy hill, locked in living death by the moon's seduction.
Saint Sebastian - As a youth, Saint Sebastian joined the military under Diocletian, though it was not permissible for Christians to do so. Diocletian later found out about this betrayal and had Sebastian tied to a tree. Diocletian then had his archers shoot Sebastian with arrows, and left him for dead. However, Sebastian yet clung to life.
However, Sebastian was saved by a woman named "Irene". As soon as Sebastian could stand, he went to find Diocletian, not for revenge, but to confront him with the cruel crime he had committed.
When he arrived, Diocletian had Sebastian beaten to death.
Sebastian is the patron saint of, among other things, armorers, the plague, dying people, the enemies of religion...and books.
Wildflower House - This is an actual orphanage in Japan in the district stated.
Kitazawa Shopping District - Is a shopping district of Tokyo. It is featured in the anime "Someday's Dreamers", which is where I got the idea.
Lampyridae - Someone asked about this reference. "Lampyridae" is the Latin family name for the common firefly.
Reviews:
Thank you all for your very kind reviews. I know this is an exceedingly odd story, and maybe a bit hard to follow. But, in reality, this is a story about the relationship between Yuki and Shuichi. All the other stuff is highly incidental, and not particularly important. So, if I wrote those parts confusingly, it hopefully won't matter quite as much.
So, beer and cigarettes and Tangerine Dreams to all the reviewers. Thanks so much to:
monoco, bakayarouonna, bisexual butterfly, Veleda (Drag? Don't give me ideas for yet another Ryu story. And, damn. I read that book "Pianissimo Butterfly", too. Akasugi is a flaming nutter.), chibi chidori16, firedraygon97, Yma (I hope Yuki seems less extreme in this chapter.), Shimizu Hitomi (I hope the author notes helped a bit, this time around. Sorry for being obscure.), Burned Vamp, MissyIrene, Daemonchan, mirai aria (It is mildly Weiss-esque in some ways, isn't it?), littlenin (Hope you weren't disappointed by this chapter after how much you liked the last one.), imayb1 (The Cure, hm? I should try that. I'm running out of inspirational music), Kikvws, Ranger, and Flamingolo!
Chapter 2: Burning Kitazawa
----------------------------------
I hate many things on this planet, but perhaps, at this moment, I hate nothing more than morning.
You know, if the sun set and never rose again, I don't think I would be exceptionally bereaved of its presence.
"Eiri. Phone for you!"
"Callbacklater," I grumble, and pull the pillow over my head. I woke up with a goddamn headache, and he's not helping one bit.
"Mizuki-chan, he's being grumpy. Can he call you back?"
I'm up in a flash, trying to get the phone from Shuichi, who is already bathed and dressed. He went to bed at eleven o'clock. I, on the other hand, stayed up until three in the morning working on 'Tangerine'. Shuichi moves his hand out of the way, holding the phone behind his back.
"Give me the phone, brat."
"Give me a good morning kiss?"
"GIVE. ME. THE. PHONE."
I try to lunge at him, but due to the fact that I'm all tangled up in the sheets, like a fly in a spider web, I take a dive off the bed. My head hits the floor with a resounding thud. When my vision finally clears, Shuichi is upside-down. He kneels next to me, laughing softly, and gently places his lips against my forehead.
"Kiss it better for you?" he whispers, slipping the phone into my fingers.
"Well, it is your fault, after all, baka."
"Hehehehehe." Shuichi crooks one finger and pushes some errant hairs behind my ear. The mere brush of a touch against one of my decidedly more sensitive spots makes me have to suppress the urge to thrash about like a fish on a hook. "I'm off to work, okay?"
"I thought you were done with your album."
"Well, just because we finished recording doesn't mean all the work is done.
Fuck. I thought...I thought he was going to have some time off, now. If he's out and about...then Lucy... No. It's okay. NG is alright. He's protected there. And, with Shuichi in a safe place, that will give me time to investigate.
"I'll be back around seven," Shu says, standing up. He looks infinitely taller from this angle. "Later, gator!"
"Shu..." Don't go. Stay here today, with me. We could...you know...stay in bed or watch TV or... No. Nevermind. That was an odd impulse...for so early in the morning. I guess I'm just tired.
"Hmmmm?"
"Don't forget your phone."
"Okay! Bye!" Shuichi slips out of the room, filled with enough energy to power a large carnival, and disappears down the hall.
Hm. He didn't tell me he loved me. I wonder why he...didn't say...
A static laden voice comes from my hand, "Yuki-san? Are you there? Hello? Hello?"
I put the cellphone to my ear as I try to untangle myself from the sheets and get my body into a sitting position. Not that Mizuki much cares if I am sitting, or standing, or freakin' about to set myself on fire and leap off a building as long as the book is done on time.
"It's not done," I say. I wonder if she is going to call me every day for the next three weeks.
"Hm? Oh yes. Good. I'm extending your deadline, anyway. We want to put it out when summer is in full-spin. Too many people are trying to corner the summer book market by releasing in May, but I am delaying yours until June and... Nevermind. That's not why I called."
Cigarettes. I need...cigarettes. And a lighter. Where the hell is my... Oh, there it is. Now I need my glasses. I'm the fucking undead this morning. I never sleep well... Come to think of it, I can't remember the last time I slept more than two or three hours straight. "Why did you call, then?"
"You have to get dressed, right away. There's a luncheon, a fundraiser, that I just found out about this morning, and you -need- to go."
"No." That's the absolute -last- thing I -need- to do today. "I don't give a fuck about the whales, the homeless, or the illiterate deforested wombat of Nigeria."
"No, no. It's not..." Mizuki mumbles something to someone who walked into her office, something about coffee, and then returns to our conversation. "It's to raise money for a library for the Wildflower House in Kisarazu. But, that's not what's important. You have to go. Akasugi Naoko is going to be there..."
What the fuck? That guy never leaves his house! Why is he showing up at some two-bit fundraiser luncheon?
"And if he shows up, and you're not there to take some of the spotlight away from him, his 'good deed' is going to totally kill us in the trades next week."
Fucking hell.
If there is a God, if there is someone looking down on us, judging us from above...
I'm absolutely certain he hates me with a special sort of loathing.
He hates me the way Indiana Jones hates snakes.
I hang up on Mizuki after getting the address, and dial another number. No reason to keep from multitasking. I can do this. I can manage this. A man answers, his British accent thick and syrupy over his Japanese.
"Music library. Tag here."
"Get me everything on the movements of the Lampyridae over the past two years."
"That you, Michael? You should come visit. I've got some great new cigars."
Grrrr. I'm too sleepy. I scrounge around in my brain, trying to find my social skills. They've got to be in there somewhere. "Yeah. That sounds great. Are you going to get the goddamn files, or what?"
"That's a lot of stuff, but...I think I can send you a sizeable bulk of it in a couple of hours. Will that work?"
"Yeah."
For once...
Someone is helpful.
"And Tag...don't tell Seguchi."
-------------------------------
I hate these affairs. Completely ludicrous events. I look at the plates and dishes in front of me. So, kids at this Wildflower House need a library? Is that it? Well, why not sell this goddamn gold-edged dinnerware? The porcelain vase in the middle of the table, the one containing a very expensive flower arrangement, why not sell it? It takes a phenomenal amount of money to put on one of these swank affairs. So why not just donate it instead of wasting my time?
I will tell you why. Because some old biddy wants to show off for her throng of friends, that's why. These old women have nothing better to do than spend their time making a circus out of philanthropy.
"I'm so glad you came, Yuki-san," the wrinkled old Yuugai-san says, deigning to pat my hand with hers. She's wearing about five hundred rings. It's amazing that the old bat can even lift her arm. "My friends and I all adore your writing." She leans close to me, her thick kimono rustling with every movement. Good lord, her breath smells like salmon. "And between you and me, you're so much more dignified than that one."
She nods her head towards the end of the table.
Akasugi.
The man looks like some sort of lost space alien. He's wearing a long-sleeved black dress. A dress, for fucksakes. The metallic blue piping and insets match the shocking blue highlights in his black hair, which, like his face, appears to be slathered in glitter. And, to top it all off, the man is wearing a pair of costume butterfly wings.
What a foppish idiot.
No wonder his people don't let him go outside.
I've never seen him in person before, though. He's so pale, you can almost see the blue-green veins beneath his skin. And he's so fucking thin, I suspect that if he walked outside, a slight breeze might carry him away.
Oh, that's right. He's a vegetarian. The lack of meat must be getting to his brain.
Nonetheless, I can tell...with one look at that lean face...those grey eyes...he's a predator. He's here for some reason -other- than charity.
"Are you alright, Yuki-san?" Yuugai-san asks, patting my hand again. Damnable touchy-feely decrepit nutter.
"Yes, thank you," I reply, pulling my hand away as I stand up, "I'm just in need of some air. If you will excuse me for a moment."
Yuugai-san smiles, stars in her wrinkle-lined eyes, "Of course. I hope you'll be back in time for the auction?"
I nod and make my way through the room. There's probably about five dozen people here, and another two dozen perusing the items up for auction in the next room over. The formal hall is a grossly opulent affair, overblown with antique chandeliers and heavy oil paintings adorning the walls. It reminds me of something from a Bronte novel. Not that I read that sort of crap for anything more than research, of course.
I make my way to the French doors and out onto the balcony. I need a smoke, and to calculate exactly how much more time I need to spend here before making an exit that isn't considered rude.
I should be writing.
I should be tracking down Lucy.
I should be trying to figure out what to do about the rock star that has installed himself in my house.
I should be doing any of these things, but instead, I am trapped here, in this insane farce, with society's privileged class of completely useless wastes of flesh, auctioning off several signed first editions. If they wanted money, I would have given them money. That would have been mildly respectable. But, no, this is like a meat market, and I am the next fucking whore up for sale.
I lean against the stone railing, mildly amused that someone has actually gone through the trouble of importing the world's most hideous gothic architecture to Japan. At least the garden is still a traditional one. The sound of the small pond is utterly soothing. I wonder if anyone will notice if I just hang out here for an hour or two...
"Yuki Eiri-san, isn't it?"
Let me die now. As soon as I get home, I'm calling Mizuki and demanding she hang herself.
His voice is a lot lower and quieter than I expected. Of course, -I- expected him to sound like a muppet. Nonetheless, it slices with a knowing edge, mild flippancy hidden beneath politeness, a razor blade hidden in molasses. "I was so glad you showed up here. You know, I only came because my publicist said you'd been invited."
I turn around, exhaling smoke in his direction. Unfortunately, Akasugi's standing too far away to be encompassed by the cloud. He raises his hand and pets a trellis of ivy, as if it were some sort of small furry animal.
"Strange," I reply, "I had no idea you were going to be here."
The presumptuous smile on his face slips a couple of millimeters. Ahh, take him down a notch, that's it.
"A lovely charity, don't you think? Mmm. Yes. But me, I'm not much of one for these affairs. Entirely too depressing." Akasugi steps forward, the outdoor air catching his plastic and gauze wings, making them twitch slightly. He looks a great deal like a dying insect, now that I think about it.. When he's within arm's reach of me, Akasugi slides his rump onto the concrete railing. Staring at me with manufactured intensity, Akasugi continues, "I've read all of your books, you know? Even 'Smoke and Mirrors'. I think the critics were far too harsh on it. It's a bewitching tale. You have such a remarkable talent for tragedy."
You have no idea, asshole.
"I'm afraid I've never read any of yours," I say. Maybe if I am rude enough, he'll get the point and drift away.
"Now..." Akusugi licks his lips, very deliberately. Is he...trying to seduce me? He wouldn't be...trying to score a cheap fuck, would he? "I don't think that's true, Yuki-san. What is it you said about me in 'Letters' two months ago? Hm? What was it?" Akasugi taps one of his hideously long fingernails against his cheek, "Oh yes. 'Akasugi-san's book 'Rhapsody' will appeal only to hormonal teenage girls and a population of lonely middle-aged gay men.' Tsk tsk."
I wonder. If I push him off the railing, will he hit his head hard enough on the stone walkway below to make him permanently brain damaged? Hm. Probably not any more than he already is. Crap.
"You're pretty when you lie, Yuki Eiri."
How do you say 'Go play in rush hour traffic' in the language of flamingly gay butterfly men?
I opt for the straightforward route. "I'm not interested."
The smirk on Akasugi's face widens as he shakes his head, tossing his hair around for absolutely no reason whatsoever. I guess he thinks he's sexy. And, maybe he is...but I'm not into men. No, I mean...there's Shuichi...and some others before that but...
No, it's not that I dislike men. Or women, for that matter. I'm just not...into -people-. Well, long-term relationships with people, anyway. No, that's not it, either. I...
Why am I turning down Akasugi?
It's not like Shuichi would ever know. And why should I care if he did? I mean, maybe he'd leave me, then. Wouldn't that be better for him, anyway? I'm never going to be able to become what Shuichi wants...no...what Shuichi deserves.
I just...
I'm not interested in Akasugi.
That's it. That's all it is. He's just not my type. That's all.
Do I have a type?
Akasugi leans back on his hands and raises one of his feet. He rubs the toe of his blue velvet slipper against my pants, sliding it down my thigh and into the crook of my knee. Unfortunately, I flinch. "Oh, but I'm interested in you, Yuki Eiri. Very interested. You might even say...that I'm fascinated. And when Naoko-chan gets fascinated by something pretty, he chases it, no matter where it might run."
"Go right ahead," I reply, thinking utterly devious thoughts. I take the end of my cigarette and apply it forcibly to the side of his slipper. The velvet sizzles and smokes as the fire extinguishes. Akasugi yelps like an injured dog and jerks his foot away. "Just find some more sensible shoes before you try it."
As I walk back towards the reception hall, I hear Akasugi moaning softly about his 'burnt footsie'.
That should deter him from ever talking to me again.
Finally, finally...
Score one for Yuki Eiri...
And the devastating power of the cigarette.
------------------------------
By the time I return home, it's almost two o'clock in the afternoon. I take off my suit and put on something more comfortable. I click my email to find that, yes, in fact Tag -has- sent me the files I requested.
I dash off a quick email...
---
Email To: Mizuki(at)looseleaf.com.jp
From: saintsebastian(at)looseleaf.com.jp
Subject: Damnit.
Mizuki,
I'm serious. No more charity functions. AND ABSOLUTELY UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES WILL YOU EVER SCHEDULE ME TO BE WITHIN ONE MILE OF AKASUGI NAOKO. Or, I swear, my next novel will be written on strips of your dried flesh.
E.
P.S. Here's the sixth chapter of 'Tangerine'. Can you suggest ways to rearrange the diner scene so it flows better?
---
After I delete the sentence containing the threat, I send off the email and get to work. Tag's sent me volumes and volumes of stuff. I hate to see what else he has in his file cabinets. As Lead Researcher for Exile, Tag knows more about Lampyridae than probably even Seguchi.
According to the files, Lampyridae's headquarters is suspected to currently be in Kyoto. They aren't really active here in Tokyo, probably because they are afraid of Exile getting involved.. As far as Exile's researchers can tell, Lucy has structured Lampyridae much like Exile. There are a half-dozen top operatives, supported by a staff of lesser agents.
And then I get into the suspected Lampyridae actions over the past few months...
And I feel mildly ill.
Killing people is killing people, sure. It's butchery, no matter how you look at it. I'm sure that the man I killed yesterday had a wife. I know he did. He had a wedding ring. But, he was a predator. A monster attacking little girls. Exile never...I don't...
I don't kill for sport. Or for money. I hate people, but I don't kill them because I hate them. I just want...to save someone from...
Becoming me.
But he... He likes what he does. He likes to make them suffer.
Lucy believes that pain redeems you.
And if you experience hell on Earth, you've been purified, you've been cleansed...made immaculate. Lucy sends them back to their creator, pre-punished.
He wasn't always so cruel. This sickness is new.
I rather liked him when he was Uriel...
When he was my partner.
Now...now he's coming for me. I guess he feels it's time that I become pure again. But, why Shuichi? Why involve Shuichi? Even Lucy wouldn't go so far, would he, as to destroy an innocent just to make me pay.
Would he?
-------------------------------
I spend most of the early afternoon delving into file after file. There's so much information that it is mind boggling. Unfortunately, less than one percent of it is useful. According to the files, Lampyridae has ties to the yakuza. Ties to the Italian mafia. Ties to the CIA. Lampyridae has suspected investments in the media. In the music industry. In movies. Sports. Industry. Corporations. Convenience stores. Designer fashion. There's even a small essay on the possibility that the Lampyridae run kiddie porn sites just to find perverts. It's all so much unsubstantiated crap. Except for the police files on the assassinations we believe to have been done by Lucy or one of his agents, the whole thing reads like the fucking Illuminatus Trilogy.
After about the five hundredth file, and god knows how many cigarettes, my eyes begin to get blurry. I need a break. This stuff is going to make me psychotic.
If I'm not already, which is a possibility I -have- considered.
That would be a terribly -convenient- excuse for my behavior, wouldn't it?
Shit. I need a beer or six.
But, something...is...odd...suddenly. I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Immediately, my hand slips underneath my desk, as I search for the latch to the secreted drawer containing my emergency weapon.
It's just a small knife. It's not like I keep guns here, or anything. I don't like guns. And, if Shuichi ever found it...I'd just tell him that it was because I was worried about the paparazzi breaking into my flat.
See? I have everything under control. I am the master of my domain. Nothing gets by me, because I am always alert, and -always- prepared.
"Kumagoro says you'd have to be pretty fast to kill us with that little butter knife, Michael."
WHAT. THE. FUCK?
I spin around in my chair to find a grinning Sakuma Ryuichi, his stupid stuffed toy in tow, sitting on the divan in my office. He plasters the most triumphantly victorious grin on his face and tosses the toy up in the air, catching it a second later on his head.
Rule number three for writers and assassins: All the ninjas, be they real or fictional, have to die.
No. Strike that. I don't like that rule. Too pithy.
Hm. I wonder if Tangerine should turn out to be a ninja. Chicks dig strong women who also happen to be very emotionally vulnerable, don't they? Maybe Mizuki could get it made into some sort of shoujo video game.
Fuck. No time to think about that. There's a shinobi with a shit-eating grin sitting in my office.
"How the fuck did -you- get in here? Nevermind. I don't care. Just leave."
"Kumagoro stole Shuichi's key three months ago and made a copy. You know, Michael, just between you and I, I think Kuma-chan's been entertaining thoughts of strangling you in your sleep. He's one bad motherbunny....shut yo' mouth!"
What do I have to do to get him to -leave-? Maybe leave a trail of Pocky to the door? "Get out of my goddamn house, Raphael."
"Mm. Don't you want to know why I'm here?" Sakuma stands up and skips to the door, "Follow the bouncing bunny, Michael. Follow. Follow, na no da. There's something you need to see."
Reluctantly, I pry myself out of my chair, rolling my eyes as much as humanly possible, and engage in a game of follow-the-idiot. He leads me into the living room and heads straight for my television. After trying to convince the damn toy to turn it on, he gives up and finally does it himself.
The picture pops in, and Raphael jumps backwards, almost as if he were startled that he figured out how to work the damn thing.
"Look!" He points at the screen, and then peers over his shoulder at me.
A newscaster is standing in front of a burning building, speaking so rapidly that it takes a moment for me to parse her words. "...fire broke out in the Kitazawa shopping district today. Although it has since been quelled, the empty warehouse you see behind me has been completely destroyed. Thankfully, no one is thought to have been injured in the blaze. Police have not yet found a cause for the fire, but one unnamed source has reported that arson is possibly involved..."
"So?" I ask.
"The warehouse belonged to White Angel Industries. They make toilet paper, na no da. Really soft stuff." The idiot shinobi tilts his head to one side, and then the other, blinking at me. "Think about it, Michael."
Kitazawa. Angels. Oh, I get it alright. You could have just emailed me, Lucy, if you wanted to leave a message.
"This is all because of you! Shuichi is in trouble, and it is all your fault." Sakuma storms up to me and pokes me in the chest with an outstretched finger, "Do you ever think of anyone besides yourself? Why is it that everyone around you ends up insane or hurt? You know, I really wish you'd joined Lampyridae when you had the chance. Because then...then Shu-chan...then..."
I grab his finger and push him away. He's got a lot of tricks, that ninja, but he's not particularly strong. Sakuma stumbles backwards, losing the toy in the process. He bends down, scrambling for the thing as if he can't stand to be parted with it for even a second.
Sometimes...I just don't understand him.
"I can handle this myself," I say, walking to the door and opening it. Maybe he'll get the fucking idea, for once. "Nobody knows..."
"Nobody knows Lucy like you do, is that right, na no da? But, Michael, don't you realize it goes the other way, too? No one knows you, like Lucy." Sakuma strides out the door, marching like a lost soldier in the battle for his own sanity, "Say, Kumagoro, I wonder where Shuichi is...right now. Don't you?"
I slam the door behind him and race to my computer.
Shuichi will be at NG. Of course he will be. Why would he go anywhere else? And, even if he did go somewhere, Gabriel would shoot anyone who got within twenty feet of Shuichi. I mean that was the whole point of me asking Seguchi to make him Shu's manager.
I press the key sequence to bring up the map of Tokyo. Shuichi is...
Not. At. NG.
But, at least he's not anywhere near the Kitazawa shopping district. Where the hell is that? That's a residential district on the east side of Tokyo. Why is Shuichi -there-?
I should call him.
No. No, I shouldn't.
Yes. Yes I should. Maybe he's been kidnapped.
Well, maybe he -hasn't- been kidnapped, and then he's going to want to know why I called.
I'll call NG. That's it. I'll call the recording studio at NG. Maybe they will know where he is, and why.
I pick up the phone and dial the Bad Luck studio.
"Good afternoon, Sakano here. How may I be of assistance today?"
Something about that man's voice just makes me cringe. He's just...he's...too polite. Either Sakano is truly the nicest, most naive guy in the music industry, or he's hiding some burning secret behind those glasses. Seguchi seems to like him well enough, though.
"Where's Shuichi?"
"Yuki-san, is that you? Shindou-san? Oh he's...well..." Sakano trails off, as if thinking up a lie. I hate people who can't lie well. Well, I suppose that isn't true. Shuichi can't lie worth a damn, and I don't loathe him. Generally find myself annoyed by him, yes, loathe him, no. "Shindou-san isn't scheduled to be in the studio today. I do hope there isn't any trouble between you and him?"
"That's none of your business. I just want to know where he is."
"I couldn't say, Yuki-san. Should we be worried for Shindou-san, for some reason?"
"No."
I hang up the phone without so much as a goodbye. Alright. Alright. Now is not the time to panic. I am not the sort of person who panics. I know right where Shuichi is. I can see it on the map in front of my face.
There is no reason to freak out.
Why am I freaking out?
I pick up the phone and dial Shuichi. It rings five times before he picks up. Five. He always answers right away when it's me...
"Helloooo!" Shuichi says, sounding as bubbly as ever, "Eiri! Hello! You called me! You never call me!"
I guess there was no reason to panic, after all. Still I... I wonder where he is. Not that I care. Shuichi can do whatever he wants. I'm just worried because there's a crazed killer on the loose. That's the only reason...
"Shu..."
"Hmmm? What's up?"
"Do you..." How do I find out what he is doing without asking him, point blank? "Do you need me to pick you up after work, or will Nakano-san be bringing you home?"
"Uh...um..." What's that sound in the background? Is that a man's voice? Who is that? "No, that's really sweet of you, but I'm...uh...I've already called a taxi to pick me up from NG, so, don't worry about it. Say, did you see on the news about the fire at the Kitazawa shopping district? That's so scary, isn't it? That warehouse was right next door to one of the NG CD shipping warehouses. Good thing the fire didn't spread, huh? That would have been so bad!"
"Yeah. Bad. So, you are on your way home?"
Why do I keep calling it 'home'? I never said he could live here. Except he does, and he has, for the past two years. Do I see this as his home, too? No, I don't. If I start referring to it like that, he might get the idea that I want him to stay with me. And, although I do want him to stay, I -shouldn't- want him to stay. If I have even a gram of compassion or rational sense left anywhere in my body, I shouldn't want Shuichi to be anywhere near me.
"Yeah. I'm coming home. Um. Okay, I have to go now. Sakano needs me to sign some papers so...okay bye!"
"Shu..."
"I'll be home soon!"
The line goes dead, and I am torn between three different realizations.
First, the assassin in me realizes that Shuichi just lied to me.
Second, some small voice in the back of my head remembers that Shuichi still hasn't told me that he loves me today.
Third, the romance novelist in me declares that 'Tangerine' is a ridiculous name for a character. Maybe I should trash this whole concept and start again.
----------------------------
I'm sitting on the couch, drinking my third beer by the time I hear Shuichi outside. I know, as usual, he's fumbling around in his backpack for his keys. He's chronically unorganized.
I cleaned out his backpack once while he was sleeping. Alright, it wasn't so much cleaning as...perhaps you could call it 'spying'. Not really spying, either. I thought... Well, I was -concerned- (not worried) at the time because Shuichi had been acting strange. I thought maybe one of those other stupid musicians might have, somehow, gotten Shuichi interested in drugs. I mean, he's such an idiot, he'd probably do it, too. Shuichi trusts -everyone-, even people who want to hurt him.
Yeah, he had been acting strange. This was, what, about three months ago? He just sorta slunk around my apartment, this blank look on his face, acting like he just heard the news that he had brain cancer or something. I asked him, once and only once, what the hell his problem was, but he just shrugged and said, "Nothing". Nothing, my ass. Still, what am I supposed to do, pick him up by the hair and shake him until he tells me?
At any rate, he seemed to shake himself out of his funk after a week or so. I still don't know what the hell that was all about.
But, yes, I looked through his backpack because I was -concerned- about drugs. I mean, having an idiot living in my house is one thing, but having some drug-addled thieving junkie living in my house is completely another. Really, I don't care at all if Shuichi wants to ruin himself by destroying his brain more than it already is. But, since I -am- sleeping with him, isn't it my right to know if he has any bad habits would could possibly end up getting the both of us sick?
But, there weren't any drugs in his backpack. Just CDs, plastic bracelets, candy, some ragged old notebooks scribbled with the most vapidly insipid lyrics ever concocted, his phone, and a packaged condom which looked to be a half-decade old.
I threw it out.
He never noticed. Or, at least, he didn't say anything if he did.
I hear Shuichi slide into the foyer, calling a perky "Tadaima" as he slips off his shoes. He appears in the living room moments later, bouncing towards me like the world's largest rubber band ball. He pounces onto the couch next to me, throwing his arms around my midsection, barreling into me with such magnificent aplomb that I imagine I might have bruises tomorrow.
He's so...close...and...
I feel so far away.
Why did you lie to me today, Shuichi? I thought you would never lie to me. I don't understand what is going on with...me. Why is it that your touch makes me so scared? Why is it that the tighter you cling to me, the further away I feel? Like I can't feel you at all...I can't hear you...or see you anymore.
No. I don't care. You lied to me. You weren't supposed to lie.
This world, where I am a romance novelist living with a rock star, is already a lie. Shuichi, if you lie, too, then...
It cancels out the fantasy.
"Give me some of your beer! I'm thirsty," he says, finally extricating himself from my torso. Those beautiful eyes sparkle at me, so devoid of pretense, so...sincere. How does he manage to look so innocent?
Is this...maybe, not the first time he's lied to me?
Is Shuichi just...playing me...somehow? All along, has he been -toying- with me?
But, I thought that... I thought that he really was in -love- with me.
He said it so often. And, it was written, in his notebooks in his backpack. Over and over and over. "I love you, Yuki Eiri. I love you. I love you."
"Take the whole goddamn beer." I shove the can in his hands and stand up. I don't care what he's saying now. I have to get away from him. I have to figure this all out. I have to...
I slam the door to my office and lock it. I'm sitting in my chair before I know it.
Am I sweating? Is it hot in here? Why are my hands shaking? I'm in control of this situation. I know what is a lie, and I know what is real.
It was real, wasn't it?
But, I...
I thought you really liked me, sensei. I thought you did. I never imagined you would lie to me.
I never imagined...
"Eiri..." Shuichi's voice floats into the room, sugar and cinnamon and sweetness. If I cover my ears, I won't be able to hear him lying to me. I can keep this fantasy going. I can. "What's wrong? Let me in, please?" He pounds on the door, softly at first, and then with all of his might. "Let me IN!"
No.
I don't let anyone in.
I should have never...
It was real, wasn't it?
I fumble with the bottom drawer of my desk. There, underneath piles of dictionaries and reference manuals, I find an old worn copy of Edith Hamilton's 'Mythology'. I run my fingers down the spine, lightly, hoping...hoping...
Flip. Flip. Flip.
I put it in here. I know I did...right? It was real. It was real.
And there, tucked into the pages of the story of Endymion, I find a small scrap of paper. Gingerly, I pull it out, and unfold it.
Here it is.
I knew it.
"I love you, Yuki Eiri. I love you. I love you so much."
Those loops of red crayon. Those little pink and blue hearts. He wrote it. He wrote it down, so, it has to be true, right?
It has to be...
Because only a cruel monster would spend his time writing lies.
-----------------------------
In Our Next Chapter: Yuki follows Shuichi to find out where he's going during the day. And he, most definitely, will not like what he finds. Between the messages from Lucy, being pursued by his psychotic and flamingly gay rival, trying to finish his novel, and trying to figure out what Shuichi is doing, will Yuki Eiri even have enough time to smoke a goddamn cigarette?
Author Notes:
Illuminatus Trilogy - A massive compendium of conspiracy theory written by Robert Shay and Robert Anton Wilson
Bronte novels - See Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, and Wuthering Heights. These novels are especially beloved of young, idealistic women, and not typical fare for men.
Edith Hamilton's 'Mythology' - Endymion the shepherd is pursued by Selene, the moon. He falls into a deep sleep by her powers, and is never allowed to partake of her beauty, and remains there forever on the grassy hill, locked in living death by the moon's seduction.
Saint Sebastian - As a youth, Saint Sebastian joined the military under Diocletian, though it was not permissible for Christians to do so. Diocletian later found out about this betrayal and had Sebastian tied to a tree. Diocletian then had his archers shoot Sebastian with arrows, and left him for dead. However, Sebastian yet clung to life.
However, Sebastian was saved by a woman named "Irene". As soon as Sebastian could stand, he went to find Diocletian, not for revenge, but to confront him with the cruel crime he had committed.
When he arrived, Diocletian had Sebastian beaten to death.
Sebastian is the patron saint of, among other things, armorers, the plague, dying people, the enemies of religion...and books.
Wildflower House - This is an actual orphanage in Japan in the district stated.
Kitazawa Shopping District - Is a shopping district of Tokyo. It is featured in the anime "Someday's Dreamers", which is where I got the idea.
Lampyridae - Someone asked about this reference. "Lampyridae" is the Latin family name for the common firefly.
Reviews:
Thank you all for your very kind reviews. I know this is an exceedingly odd story, and maybe a bit hard to follow. But, in reality, this is a story about the relationship between Yuki and Shuichi. All the other stuff is highly incidental, and not particularly important. So, if I wrote those parts confusingly, it hopefully won't matter quite as much.
So, beer and cigarettes and Tangerine Dreams to all the reviewers. Thanks so much to:
monoco, bakayarouonna, bisexual butterfly, Veleda (Drag? Don't give me ideas for yet another Ryu story. And, damn. I read that book "Pianissimo Butterfly", too. Akasugi is a flaming nutter.), chibi chidori16, firedraygon97, Yma (I hope Yuki seems less extreme in this chapter.), Shimizu Hitomi (I hope the author notes helped a bit, this time around. Sorry for being obscure.), Burned Vamp, MissyIrene, Daemonchan, mirai aria (It is mildly Weiss-esque in some ways, isn't it?), littlenin (Hope you weren't disappointed by this chapter after how much you liked the last one.), imayb1 (The Cure, hm? I should try that. I'm running out of inspirational music), Kikvws, Ranger, and Flamingolo!