It's a little embarrassing, Kirie thinks, that she's past thirty years old and still has no one to see and nothing to do on a Friday night.

But screw it, she thinks, as she steps off the train and looks up at the concert hall in front of her, looming large and bright against the darkening sky, she'll just make her own fun.

Assuming she can smuggle the bottle of vodka in her purse past security, that is.

The concert isn't bad, really. And truth be told, Kirie doesn't hate piano music.

What she does think of this Eyes Rutherford concert, though - completely sober, because the tickets were for front row goddamned seats and she certainly couldn't drink in front of the row of guards protecting Eyes from… fangirls, she guesses - is that it's stale. All he's played in the last hour are cover songs, made famous by pianists long dead. And they've all been played perfectly.

The crowd's been eating it up, of course. Every sweep of her eyes across the packed theater behind her showed a sea of smiling faces, watery eyes, even flushed cheeks - idiots, she'd muttered more than once - and hundreds of clapping hands. Eyes is amazing. Eyes is loved.

Eyes is nothing more than a puppet doing what the people want him to.

But that's just my cynical view on things, she reminds herself, slouching in her seat, drumming her fingertips along the armrest. At the moment he's playing a perfect rendition of some fast-paced thing with a lot of high notes, and the couple to her left is just eating it up; she wishes she could be as excited as they are.

Why can't she be as excited as they are?

She can't remember the last time anything got her smiling like that. It was long before she became a Watcher, probably. Before the cigarettes and Narumi Kiyotaka and all his goddamn favors.

She drifts off into thought for a few minutes before becoming suddenly aware that the entire audience is on their feet, applauding, and that she should probably join in. But Eyes is already up from the piano bench, motioning for them to sit, and so they all do, murmuring to themselves loudly around her.

He comes to the edge of the stage with a microphone and tells the crowd he has one song remaining, which leads to a loud mix of reactions. Kirie begins to think about getting up and leaving -

"I have some very important news to share with you all this evening."

- or not.

On the stage, Eyes is standing straight - taller than she remembers him looking from a distance - and his voice is loud and clear. Resolute, she thinks.

This will be important.

"After many years producing music with the Mars Record Company in Japan," he says to the crowd, "we have mutually agreed to end our contract. As of tomorrow morning, I will no longer be signed to the label."

A loud murmur sweeps through the room. The pianist immediately raises one hand, and the crowd quiets almost instantly. "Furthermore," he continues, "with the dissolution of my recording contract and departure from the label, this will be my final concert." He pauses. "I will be on hiatus from touring and recording music, effective immediately."

The theater erupts. Even Kirie's mouth drops open for a moment. On the stage, Eyes doesn't bow, doesn't apologize, doesn't give the thank you for supporting me for all this time speech - only turns on his heel and walks back to the piano.

And as the room gradually grows quiet and still, the sounds of Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2, a piece that Kirie will later hear described on the news as "never played by Eyes Rutherford in concert before - and never to be played again," fills the air with notes so alternately dark and bright that it is almost haunting.

"Pardon me - Tsuchiya Kirie-san?"

Kirie has waited out the crowds before standing up to leave, and she is almost out of the theater when she hears someone call her name, followed by a tap on her shoulder. She turns to face a petite dark-haired woman who looks… irritated. "I apologize," the woman says (and not looking the least bit sorry), "but Rutherford-san asked me to bring you to see him."

"... he did?"

"Yes." The woman doesn't look like she can be bothered to explain any further. "Would you follow me, please?"

Kirie mostly feels like saying hell no, I'm tired and I want to go home and doesn't exactly feel like chatting with a Blade Child, either, but she does suppose it would be rude to refuse. "Fine," she sighs, and follows the woman as she walks down the aisle toward the stage, flashes a badge at a guard by a side door, and leads her through a series of busy hallways.

They eventually walk inside a room that looks like a lounge, and it's here that the dark-haired woman turns to face Kirie, pushing a set of silver-rimmed glasses up on her nose. "If you could wait here, please," she says, gesturing to a couch.

"Ah - sure."

She leaves, practically slamming the door behind her. She's gone barely ten seconds before Kirie hears the squeak of another door opening - and looks across the room to see Eyes emerging from what she assumes is his dressing room, tuxedo coat gone and the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows. "Hello," he greets her, casually.

She practically jumps to her feet. "What the hell - "

"I apologize." He cuts her off easily, walking across the room to meet her. "I know that I have inconvenienced you. However, I wanted to speak with you again once I had settled my other business."

"You mean quitting your record label?" She shifts her weight to one heel, looking up at him as he stops in front of her. "Did you make me come here just to hear that?"

"No." He shakes his head, gesturing at the couch. "Please, sit."

"... you better start talking," she mutters, but sits back down, watching him closely as he takes a spot beside her. "I have better things to do, you know."

If Eyes knows this is a lie, he doesn't show it. "There is something I wanted to share with you earlier, but the cafe did not seem like… the appropriate time or place."

"Okay, fine. So out with it."

"Before I returned to Japan," he says, folding his hands together in his lap, "an anonymous person - a Hunter, I presume - contacted my record label and made a threat on my life."

Kirie sits up straight. "I asked you if anything was going on!"

"And I said," he replies - with a hint of a wry smile - "that I had nothing to share."

"... semantics, Raza-kun." She grits her teeth. "Why are you only telling me this now?"

"The threat was dealt with in a way I found… unappealing." He holds her gaze for a moment before turning away. "This person claimed that if I returned to Japan, he would immediately take my life. My manager's decision was to keep my tour activity elsewhere for a long period of time, and she urged me to take up residence in another country." He pauses. "I was also surrounded by bodyguards at nearly all times."

"Sounds stressful." She raises an eyebrow. "So why did you come back to Japan?"

He doesn't answer at first. When he does, his voice is stronger - resolute, she thinks again, just as it was when he stood on stage and announced his retirement. "I have no desire to live what remains of my life, as long or as short as it may be, in fear. Any few Hunters that remain active can be assumed to be far out of reach, or individuals who are powerless on their own, without supporters around them." He looks down at his hands, folded together in his lap. "I never fathomed that I might survive this long or accomplish as much as I have. Now that I have reached this stage, I find that I have a strong desire to keep surviving… but only on my terms."

"I see."

"I have also come to feel… stifled, creatively." He looks back to her now. "The woman who I asked to bring you here - my manager - " He smiles slightly. "... former manager. We disagreed on the direction of my career, and on the kind of music I wanted to bring to the world. I wanted to produce and perform original works, but she and the rest of the company felt I would find more success covering other musicians."

"On that one I agree with you. Listening to you play all that classical crap is boring." She frowns. "But… listen, I can understand wanting to live out your life and all, but did you look into the threat? Was it legitimate?"

"It may have been. I did not ask for the details of the investigation." He exhales. "But I cannot say I care, now. My life at this moment…" He reaches up to adjust his glasses. "I am well past the age at which I was told a curse would take my life, and yet I feel that the progress I have made is minimal. I have material possessions, money, and fame, but…"

Kirie waits for a moment before prompting him. "But?"

"... I am not certain what I have gained from these experiences," he says finally. "Or if I have even yet begun to truly… live."

She snorts. She can't help it. "That's deep."

He doesn't look annoyed, but she doesn't think he looks very happy at this remark, either. "I understand that you see me as nothing more than a troublesome Blade Child, Kirie. But I would like to change your mind."

"Oh?"

"Yes." At this he smiles. A real smile, she thinks - maybe - she's not sure. "Have you eaten dinner already?"

"... why are you asking me that?"

"There is a lovely ramen restaurant just around the corner. I know the owner personally." He stands, stretching his arms above his head. "Would you care to come with me? They have the kind of food I miss most when I am out of the country."

"What, are you going to just - walk there?"

"That was my intention, yes."

"Raza-kun, you do realize you just announced your retirement in front of a huge crowd of people, and some of those people are probably going to be standing right outside waiting to mob you the second you leave - right?!" She smacks her palm into her forehead. "For someone so famous, I always wonder how you manage to walk around as if no one will recognize you…!"

"Ah… yes. That is true. Just a moment." He returns to his dressing room, and after a moment re-emerges with his tuxedo jacket slung over one shoulder and his cell phone held to his ear. "Hello, Yamada-san," he greets a caller on the other end; after a pause, his expression seems to actually brighten. "That is perfect. Thank you as always."

Kirie stands, unable to help but feel a bit weary as she watches him end the call. "So…"

"My driver is already waiting outside." He tucks the phone into the pocket of his pants. "Would you care to join me? I promise the food is very good."

She rubs the back of her neck. "Look… Raza-kun, I don't know about this…"

"I understand completely if you feel reluctant." He lifts his tuxedo jacket as if he's about to slide it on over his shoulders, only to give it a critical look and - suddenly, carelessly - toss it to the floor. "This evening is the beginning of… a change, for me. I no longer wish to live my life guided by the direction of others. It will take some time, surely, to fully change my behavior, but I plan on doing so."

"I get that, but why invite me along for the ride?"

He locks eyes with her. "Can you say that you are truly living as you wish?"

She opens her mouth to reply with a sarcastic remark, realizes she has nothing to say, and shuts it.

"... I do not mean to interfere," he continues, a bit more softly, "but the frustrations you have expressed at our last few meetings - "

"Okay, okay, fine, whatever. Ramen. I'll go."

He isn't done talking about this, and she knows it, and he has a valid point and she knows that too, but she's not going to get into that now. If going to some noodle bar in the middle of Tokyo on a Friday night with the world's most popular pianist will get someone to stop prying into her feelings, then whatever. She'll do it.

Eyes smiles (maybe) and nods. "We can leave from the back entrance. My driver is waiting there in the car."

The black towncar is, true to his word, right at the door, but that doesn't keep them from getting mobbed by fans. Eyes doesn't smile or acknowledge a single soul; Kirie, meanwhile, has to remind herself not to gawk at how many damn people there are screaming his name or holding up ridiculous signs.

Even after they're within the safety of the backseat and behind tinted windows, the sheer number of people make it hard for the driver to navigate them out of the crowd. Eyes watches their slow progress with a raised eyebrow, apparently unimpressed by the many women proclaiming their undying love for him. "Perhaps I should have announced my hiatus in a statement," he murmurs.

Kirie thinks for a moment before opening her purse and - with a grin - pulling out the small bottle of vodka she'd stashed away for earlier. "This is the perfect thing to help with regret."

He looks at the bottle, at her, and at the bottle again. "Why do you have…?"

"I told you already. I hate piano music."

"... right," he says, with a sigh, and looks away. "I understand."