Shine on you crazy diamond

Disclaimers: Are the same as before.

Author's Notes: So here is the start of the main bulk of the story. Ryuichi POV and in 1st Person. It follows Splinters pretty close but there are difference. Spot them if you can.

track one

No matter how high up the building went there was always some kind of noise. The sounds of the wind and the faint sounds of traffic, the slamming of neighbors' doors and the throb of music through the walls and the faint murmur of voices, no matter how high up I was, I could hear it all. Every city had it's own rhythm, the subtle changes in car sounds and the soft beat of the wind told different stories to one used to it. As for Tokyo, as for this sound, I knew it well.

Not that it was working tonight.

"It's not helping, Kumagoro!"

Usually that beat - the life of a city - would lead me deep within the silence of the mind. That place - some call it inspiration, I call it soul - made me what I was. Inside that quiet of the mind, I could find the right twist of words, the exact phrasing that would drag a nail across the spine of my soul and make me shiver. Sometimes, the words fitted just so, all the elements in place that made a hit a hit, other times it would fall apart and not be that good, even though everything I've wrote made it somewhere on the hit list. I had scrapbooks full of phrases and words that haven't found a home yet, and some days I would open them up and look for the perfect piece to fall into place.

But for some reason, it wasn't working. Maybe it was coming back here for the week, or maybe it was the concert earlier. Whatever it was, I just couldn't concentrate.

"What am I doing wrong, Kumagoro? The words aren't working!"

Looking over at the pink bunny sitting on my couch, a bright blue baseball cap perched on his head. I needed three more songs for my American label. Three more songs about love and hate and loss and yet I've been stalling for over a month trying to come up with the words. I had the music down, the studio had polished and primped it to perfection, but I just couldn't wrap my head around what I wanted to say.

"I can't think of anything new to say!" I said, stretching out on the floor and looking up at the ceiling. "I just can't! Kumagoro, what am I gonna do? K's gonna shoot me dead!"

No wonder people thought I was missing something - I did talk to a plush rabbit like it was alive. But I had always been like that, talking out loud or singing if I had an audience or not. That I turned my good luck present into my sounding board might have been weird, but people have grown used it since I've brought him everywhere with me and treated him like he was alive. In a way he was alive, brought to life by the amount of care I've given him.

Frowning at the plain white ceiling and wondering why they were left white when nothing else was, I listen to the inner voice that some people would call my inner child speak up.

"Get out of the apartment? Don't think about the music?" I scrunched up my nose and sat up, looking over at the bunny. "But K said. . . But I have to. . . Really? I'm suffering from not mingling and I need to get out and not think about music for a while? But I. . . Okay! I'll do it! I can work on the songs in the morning!"

Satisfied with my answer, Kumagoro fell silent, looking at my hasty scribbles with reproachful button eyes. I tossed my pen on the table and picked the bunny up and bounced over to my bedroom. I'm sure I could have claimed a nice mansion with hundreds of rooms, but instead I settled with a nice four room apartment in a quiet part of the city. The front door opened up to the living room/kitchen, which led to a small room that held my books and music and then there was the bathroom and the bedroom. Everything was painted in rich colors with polished wooden floors and simple furniture. I had a lot of pictures on the walls, most of them featuring the band with a sprinkle of other good friends and a couple of my kid sister in her high school uniform and sporting braces and skinned knees. And then there were the records gold and platinum with pictures of the artwork and a list of the tracks on each.

My bedroom was painted a deep violet color with the main furniture being an oversized bed and a chest of drawers. Being mostly nocturnal, I had put up blackout curtains over the window and then shoved the chest of drawers in front of that to block out as much morning light as I could. There was an assortment of fluffy, fuzzy blankets on the bed and I had at least five pillows stacked on top of the covers.

I shoved my over-night bag off the bed, turned down the covers and set Kumagoro in them. Leaving him there, I flung open my closet and dug around for something fitting for the night scene. Some of the stuff was from before I had left and some was from the hottest places in L.A., stuff I bought after much pleading, begging and bapping of Kumagoro on K's head. I dismissed most of it and pulled out a pair of leather pants worn to butter softness and fitting like a second skin. After a few minutes of indecision, I decided on a tissue thin shirt with the glittery words 'Pretty Boy' across the chest. Making a face at myself in the mirror, I decided on wearing a long choker chain and matching earrings with the shirt, wishing that K did let me get a nose ring. Or even a diamond stud it would have looked awesome and not like the mad dog image that K insisted it would make me look like.

I wiggled out of my clothing and pulled on the club gear, adding just a hint of make-up to make my eyes bigger and give my lips a just kissed look. To complete my look, I pulled on a leather jacket and posed a couple times for Kumagoro's approval. He gave it a thumb up, so I snagged my wallet and keys from my bag and told Kumagoro not to party hard and go to bed at a reasonable hour before heading out the door.

I made sure to lock up behind me, and took the stairs to the garage, singing the song I sang for that kid's debut earlier that night. It was a pretty tune, but it wouldn't match anything I was currently working on. Now if Nittle Grasper would ever do anything. . . I shelved that idea before letting it take over my thoughts. Now wasn't the time for thinking about the old group.

The stairs were deserted. I grinned to myself and burst into full song, my voice bouncing off the concrete and echoing up the stairwell for anyone to hear. Singing was one of the few things I could do and do well. All I needed was a simple rhythm, like the sound of my feet against the floor, and I could make a song. Step. Slide. Bounce bounce. Slide.

"Tooku de me o hirkarasete, mezameru mono-tachi matteriu. Yoru no jouheki sasowarete, utsuri sumu mure no. . ."

Breaking off the song, I banged open the door barely winded from singing while going down five flights of stairs. I always sing while walking up and down stairs it kept my lungs in shape for the more demanding touring and remained good exercise for my legs. It was something the press here loved to write about, labeling it as just another cute antic the 'genius Sakuma' would do for his fans. There were days that I wished I could strangle that genius just to get them to shut up about him just once. America spoilt me in that respect since the press there wasnt into trailing after me like a pack of rabid chickens.

K had parked my car in the same spot as always and I spent a moment running my fingers over the slick hood, feeling just a touch glad I had it here. I remembered when I first saw it in an import store, the deep purple paint calling for me. It took several years to actually have enough to buy it, and even then I barely drove it, so the paint was crisp and the interior smelt of leather and a hint of K's cigarettes.

I unlocked it and slid behind the wheel, shaking out my keys and sliding the right one into the ignition. The motor caught at the first try and I sat in the seat listening to the engine rumble, understanding why people were so fixated on buying cars with their money. Then I flipped on the radio and tuned into a popular music station and put the Porsche into gear. Laughing, I sped through the garage, hit the outside street and kept on going. I could almost hear K yelling something about speed limits, but I didn't care. A car like this was made to race and I was in the mood to give in to its needs.

I could see the horror on the faces of my adoring public at the idea of their child-like hero going out like this, with a mind empty of everything but needing a good time and finding someone to spend a night with. I was thirty-one years old, quite capable to take care of myself without needing a nursemaid. Yes, K followed me around the place, and before him there were other managers cum bodyguards, but it was more for my fans' protection than mine. If I was truly as idiotic as I acted, I doubt Tohma would have even wanted to stay around me for any length of time.

Singing along with the songs, I drove where the whim took me, speeding around the streets and letting the car go. The city was alive and pulsating with its inner music, mingling with the driving beat thudding over my speakers. I rolled down a window, letting the music come inside and sink into my bones like I had never left. America had a younger, livelier beat, but Tokyo's was deeper, older, mixed with the traditional beat hidden in the twisting allies. The wind tangled into my hair and the smells bit deep of crowds and exhaust and fish.

I came to a stop barely in time at a stop light and used the time to comb my hair back from my eyes with my hands. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw a neon sign for a club and decided to stop there for a drink before continuing driving. I made a hairpin turn into the parking lot, found a spot to claim and came to a stop. Fishing out a pair of sunglasses, I put them on, turned off the radio, rolled up my window, and exited the car, making sure to lock it behind me. There was a small line in front of the club but the bouncers weren't being stingy with letting people inside, so it took no time at all to go in.

Multicolored lights flashed overhead, bodies pressing together in contortionist's rhythms with the blaring music melted minds and shattered eardrums. Stepping into the club, the floor slanted down and opened up into the dance floor, while on either side the bar and a few tables could be found. I headed for the bar, used to walking around in dark places while wearing sunglasses. I got bumped into and groped by those crowding the balcony and did some groping back before I managed to squeeze between a couple people and smiled at the cute girl tending the bar.

She smiled back, finished a mix and handed it over to someone before asking me what I wanted. I ordered a simple scotch on the rocks and watched her juggle as she put my drink together. I dibbed my pinkie into the glass, making the ice chime against the glass and then brought my finger to my lips, sucking it off. Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink that matched the streaks in her hair, but before I could ask her anything, she was dragged away by another order. Sighing at the loss, I turned my back to the bar and watched the gyrating bodies below.

I could feel the tension at my neck and shoulders slip away - tension I was sure started at the messed up concert earlier that day. Singing can and often did soothe the savage fangirl but the crowd had been large and I knew that if I couldn't get them calmed enough to let the kid sing, he would never try it again. For some reason he had reminded me of me when I first saw a crowd that huge, all of those people just waiting for the magic of music to take them away. I had frozen for a moment, but then Tohma had nudged me and Noriko had thrown a paperclip at my head and that frozen feeling was gone. But that kid. . . he had looked like he'd seen his death sitting in that crowd.

Bringing my glass to my lips, I knocked back the drink, feeling the familiar sting as the alcohol brunt a path straight to my stomach. I put the glass down on the bar, made sure to stuff some payment in it, and headed for the dance floor. I threw myself into the beat, hands touching hands, bodies pressing tightly against bodies, surging and sweating and mingling, the lights flashing against the insides of my eyelids. I gave myself to this rhythm, letting it carry me alone in the crowd, alone under a different sort of mask.

A warm body pressed hard against me and I opened my eyes to look down at her. She was flush against me, her hips grinding back against me, and her head resting on my shoulder. I could see down the front of her tiny dress, the curve of her collarbones and the arch of her neck as she stretched and wrapped her arms around my neck. I spread my hands over her waist, amused to find her skin was bare there as well. She panted, her lips brushing the skin of my neck and I bit back the squeak that wanted to come out.

This wasn't the first time nor would it be the last. I may act like a child, but I liked being with people and finding someone warm to cling to. And if I happen to find someone willing for a night, then I went for it. She turned, her chest pressing against mine and her right leg, rubbing against my crotch. I licked my lips and bent down, enjoying the wicked grind of her lips against mine and the taste of sour apples in her mouth. Pulling away, I raised my hand and pressed my fingers against her lips, smirking as she took my index finger between her lips.

"Wicked girl," I said, leaning close enough to whisper to her. "No commitments, no regrets, let's see if we can find heaven or hell tonight."
"No regrets," she replied, letting go of my finger in favor of licking her cherry colored lips. "And heaven's what you make of it."

I felt my mouth curve and I kissed her again, her body pressing hard against mine. We pulled apart and I took her hand in mine, leading her off the dance floor and out the door. It took a while to get there since we stopped every few feet for some serious grinding and kissing. It felt like I would finally satisfy a few cravings tonight but upon reaching the car, I realized that it wasn't going to happen.

Someone was leaning against it; a lean body dressed in deceptively youthful clothing, a hat on top his bright hair and sunglasses covering his eyes. I noticed the slight downturn of his lips before his blank smile crossed his face. I stopped and my companion stumbled against me in her too high shoes.

"I had thought you would be safely tuck away in bed," Tohma said, a slight tease in his voice. "But instead I find you seeking another's bed. Is that what they teach in America?"

"Hey, it's none of your business," my companion said next to my elbow, her hands wrapping tight around my upper arm.

She really didn't notice the way his gaze flicked to her or the way his smile tightened around the corners of his mouth. I sighed and wiggled my arm free, wondering which game I should play the jilted lover or the hyper clueless child. The woman tried grabbing my arm again and I took a step back deciding on the more dangerous game.

"Well, if someone was going to stay the night instead of teasing and leaving, I wouldn't have to go looking for another bed," I said. Tohma's eyes narrowed and I grinned easily, ignoring the gasp next to me. "Or does catching your flight mean more then staying with me?"

"You've made it quite plain that you were only playing around," he replied. Oh ouch, he knew what I was doing and didn't like it.

"Don't tell me you don't like our games."

"I never said that."

"Hey!"

We both turned to the woman I've brought out of the club. She looked weird out under the streetlights, her hair a straggling mess, her lipstick smeared, her too tight clothing showing a few unsightly wrinkles and bumps. Usually I was better at picking out people, but she just seemed like a perfect no one to forget with. Not that I could forget with Tohma standing there radiating amusement.
"What is this, some kind of lover's spat?" she said, stamping a foot. "I won't be used like this!"

"Then maybe you should leave before you are," he said, smoothing his vest down.

"You jerk!" She slapped me, knocking my sunglasses off and ran back to the night club. I straightened, touched my cheek and sighed. Tohma bent over and picked the glasses up, tucking them into his vest pocket and taking out a handkerchief from the same pocket.

"You've got lipstick all over your face."

I took it and started wiping it off. "Why are you here?"

"I had gone to your place and found you gone so I ask Kumagoro where you went. Since you're supposed to keep a low profile, I felt it was necessary to stop you from getting too carried away."

"In other words, I need to finish those tracks?"

He looked over his shoulder at me and smiled his real smile. "Something like that."

I snorted and handed him his handkerchief back. He tucked it away and opened the passenger side door. I remembered that he also had keys to my car, since there were times all three of us went out in the one car and none of us were sure who was going to drink and who wasn't.

"I'll take you home."

"But who's going to take you home?"

"I have a plane to catch tomorrow so I was hoping I could stay at your place tonight."

His hand lingered on top of the door, his body tensing for different reasons then before. I touched his hand, feeling the strength inside of him. He didn't lean forward, didn't blink behind his glasses, but I heard him suck in his breath. I thought about the reasons why we fell apart, about his wife, about how we shouldn't start anything, but then I leaned forward, brushing his lips with mine.

"Sure," I said, and climbed into the seat. "You drive."

Tohma let his breath out with a soft hiss and closed the door. I leaned back and closed my eyes, feeling the car rock slightly as he got in. It took us no time at all to get back to my place.