Angel Beats! エンジェルビーツ!

Our Beats Incarnate

Book III: The Piano

Chapter 2: A Rose By Any Other Name…

-o-O-o-

Yuzuru nursed the glass before him almost mournfully as he slouched over the dark faux mahogany bar, thick layers of soft unsanded varnish tacky to the touch beneath his fingers. His seat was lumpy and uncomfortable, worn beyond all intended use during its countless years of servitude, unyielding to the point that it almost made his backside numb. With a dejected sigh his chin fell to rest heavily upon the chipped, scuffed and poorly-repaired countertop, every drink-stain and etch within held hostage by layers of translucent wood-stain rather than repaired the ageing wounds of wear and tear, immortalised like some ancient insect trapped amidst an amber tomb.

The reek of booze and roasted peanuts was the only scent he could make out beyond that of the varnish. But he didn't care. It was familiar, welcoming, and it helped him to relax in a surrounding that had become his small sanctuary of respite from both work and home whenever he had need of it.

"What's eating you tonight, Otonashi?"

Yuzuru didn't even look up. He could hear the squeak of terry cloth against glass as the familiar barman and owner of the establishment cleaned yet another pint glass and returned it to the safe haven of its storage cubby – a habit Yuzuru was sure formed a part of the man's muscle memory by now. He never seemed to do much else, his staff typically the ones to actually pour a drink.

"Well, I…"

The dejected Yuzuru had every intention of explaining. But it was always difficult to know where to begin, his mind and mood in such a funk.

His attention was drawn to the wall-mounted television situated behind the bar even as he tried to think, the box nestled into a corniced alcove where wall met ceiling. The late night news was on, the reporter located outside an all too familiar local landmark, drawing a mildly displeased scowl from Yuzuru. It was The Venue, and the topic of choice was apparently the most recent concert.

"Angel Beats played to a sell-out crowd yet again! Fans were delighted to hear all their favourites, including a new ballad previously unheard. Kanade Tachibana – known simply as Angel – maintained her usual air of mystery by avoiding her fans and the media as the troupe departed…"

With an indignant snort, Yuzuru lowered his forehead to the bar, issuing a growl of sorts to the barman, "Turn it off."

With a shrug the tender reached up and pressed a button hidden flush within the TV's facia, flipping over to some inane music channel that played out simple generic pop, "Cheer up, Otonashi." The man chuckled gently, "There'll always be next time."

"Next time?" Yuzuru puzzled for a moment, wondering what on earth the man meant by that. A next time for what? Was it some sort of sage advice from a man who'd somehow managed to pluck the evening's memories from Yuzuru's very mind, or was it just a vibe he'd picked up on and offered nonspecific advice for? And, either way, was he right? Trying to fix the problems he'd faced hadn't turned out all that well, but surely on their next tour the band would come back to The Venue again – it was their home turf, after all – and then a chance to set things straight would present itself…? Yuzuru knew he'd have to get his hands on either the band's tour schedule, or maybe the venue itself already had something on file? That'd give him plenty of time to prepare his apology, and maybe the infamous wrath that had seen others lose their jobs wouldn't end up being directed specifically at him?

Deep within the recesses of his mildly intoxicated mind the cogs began to turn and an idea or two began to form.

"Next time…" Yuzuru pondered as he reached into his pocket for his wallet.

Next time, he'd be ready.

-o-O-o-

Six months later…

-o-O-o-

Kanade once again found herself in the environs of the same old changing room that The Venue allocated her every time she performed here. It wasn't the largest, and it certainly wasn't the most luxurious, and the decor was about a decade and a half out from being called even remotely modern. But it was definitely comfortable, and it was a place that held some fond memories for her.

After all, it was home ground, and it had been the site of her breakthrough performance – or, at least, the first organised live event after Angel Beats had managed to get themselves discovered.

She still remembered the first time she'd been there, not as long ago as it felt. A couple of years at most. But still, the pre-performance nerves were there, as strong as the first time she'd performed. She liked the room she was always given because its familiarity went some way towards allaying her fears and concerns.

You've done this before. That means you can do it again. It seemed to speak to her as an old friend would.

She should have been used to it by that point, anyway. And she knew that by the time her fingers caressed the first keys ok her beloved grand piano every anxious thought and each little sensation of trepidation would melt away as the melody took over.

Having gone through the full wardrobe prep, been attended to by the make-up crew, being left to her own devices just prior to going out on stage was a more than welcome respite from the panic and fuss she'd come to endure prior to each performance.

Everyone was always in such a rush to ensure everything happened on-time and just-so that a few calming moments were her only reprieve.

The smart yet majestic white suit that had become her trademark performing attire, along with the intricately downed, artistically feathered and preened animatronic wings that currently rested casually behind her, may have made escaping the particulars of her nervous reality something of a challenge. But she managed.

The breathing exercises she went through as she prepared helped somewhat too.

An unexpected knock at her changing room door was an unwelcome distraction.

"Come in." she answered almost reflexively, without giving it so much as a second thought.

The door creaked open lazily, old untended hinges whining out a low creak in protest, but yielding nonetheless to the venue orderly who wanted to enter the room. There was something about him that seemed instantly familiar to Kanade, but she couldn't quite place it; almost as if the copper haired man was somebody she'd met or seen before…

"Miss Tachibana?" the way his voice wavered slightly as he said her name made him seem somewhat unsure of himself. But that was nothing new – venue staff the world over seemed to treat her like that, as if they were afraid of her, intimidated by her fame or something. Kanade certainly didn't regard herself as an imposing figure. A part of her lamented the way it could alienate her from other people before she had even a slight chance of getting to know them.

Kanade managed to keep her expression neutral and measured, though, casting a well-practiced veil over the barely regulated emotion that ran just beneath the surface, fighting as always to keep her pre-performance nerves at bay, "Yes?"

"My name's Yuzuru Otonashi." The young man stepped all the way into her dressing room, his expression giving away his unease, though his cupreous eyes still seemed to offer an her earnest smile, "I'm just here to-"

"Thanks." Kanade interrupted him, "But I already got the welcome package. I appreciate it."

"What?" he seemed puzzled, "Oh, no. I mean, I'm here for-"

"Oh! Am I running late?" Panic flared for a fleeting moment and it took all of her self-control to keep the anxiety in check.

"No, it's not that." Yuzuru assured her, then continued with a sigh, "Look, I've been meaning to-"

"Well, if it's not important, could you let me get ready?" Kanade interrupted. She didn't want to be rude, but he was starting to get in the way of her routine self-preparation for the performance. It wasn't really anything that either of them could help, but she knew deep down that she never performed at her best unless she was in the right mind-set. She was all too aware of what her nerves could do to the quality of her singing and playing if she wasn't properly prepared, and she didn't doubt for an instant that her fans would notice too, "Home venue is always the biggest, and I don't want to be late."

Kanade averted her gaze, closed her eyes, and returned to the mental and breathing exercises she'd been limbering up for.

Yuzuru felt his ire rising as frustration set in, doing his level best to not grind his teeth. Now it seemed that she was completely ignoring him, and he had to engage in a few breathing exercises of his own to keep his temper from erupting into anger.

"I'm-"

"Mister Otonashi," she began without opening her eyes, "I really do need to get ready for this." Kanade's tone was level and almost deceptively quiet, but the force behind it was undeniable, "Could you please leave?"

It was the straw that broke the camel's back.

"I came here to apologise to you for what happened last time!" Yuzuru fumed, clenching his fists by his side and all but growling, "Now, though, forget it!"

He turned promptly on his heels, slamming the door behind him as he left, the sound reverberating around the entire dressing room and making Kanade's mirror shake. She was left completely dumfounded by his explosive reaction, and by the words he'd all but spat at her at the end.

"Last time?" Kanade puzzled, trying to work her memory back. After a few moments of failed recollection she tried to shrug it off and return to her calming measures. Unfortunately the entire incident stayed at the fore of her mind no matter how hard she tried to shake it.

-o-O-o-

Kanade wasn't happy. By the end of the concert her only recourse was to mentally kick herself for allowing a distraction to hold her attention so avidly. She'd found herself unable to focus fully on her art, mind constantly wandering back to the incident in her dressing room, and whilst in hindsight her whole performance hadn't actually been that bad it hadn't felt all that good either. The entire thing had just felt bland and flat. Passable… Passable at best.

And it hadn't gone unnoticed by her band-mates either.

"Is everything okay?" Iwasawa had asked the moment they were off-stage, vast crowd of revellers still cheering in the distance as they walked side-by-side in the direction of their respective rooms.

Kanade didn't even meet her gaze, "Yes. Why?"

"You lacked your usual fire at the piano today." She offered Kanade an unconvinced, scrutinising sideways stare, the tone of her voice airing genuine concern rather than any actual criticism, "You sure you're okay?"

"Yes, I just…" She trailed off as her thoughts returned to that man, Otonashi, the orderly, and what he'd said to her. She didn't want to mention it. The last time she'd complained somebody had ended up losing their job. That wasn't something she wanted on her conscience over something so small, so she quickly tried to think of something else, "I'm just feeling a little tired. All this touring…"

From the way she tutted Kanade knew that Iwasawa was entirely unconvinced, but the guitarist knew by now that if Kanade didn't want to discuss something there was no way of prying it out of the pianist against her will, so she took the route of least resistance and simply let it drop and offered her friend a smile instead, "Well, we've got a break coming up. Maybe you should think about a holiday?"

Kanade offered a nod and a slight smile of her own, "Good idea."

The guitarist chuckled to herself as she watched Kanade walk away on autopilot. She'd seen this before, a symptom of deep thought. She was sure everything would be fine...

By the time Kanade got back to her dressing room proper her mind had wandered far, far away from that place. But once she was inside the room she was prompted back with a start. Her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open, a gasp of surprise the only nose she was able to make.

Filling the room, corner to corner, were dozens of yellow roses. Every available space from the chairs to the vanity unit, even the floor – save for an area swept clear by the door – possessed a rose. She'd never seen anything like it.

"Who could've done this?"

Allowing herself to take in the sight she soon noticed a small white envelope propped up against the frame of her vanity mirror. Her name was carefully, neatly traced across its front in an almost artistic freehand. Kanade was careful in opening it, and the note she found inside was fairly simple.

I read somewhere that yellow flowers are your favourite. So here are a hundred yellow roses.

I'm told they represent joy, gladness, delight. I wish you all of these things.

They also mean new beginnings.

Let's begin anew.

Her eyes soaked up the words a few times over as she worked them carefully into her memory. There was no name signed anywhere on the front of back of the little note, nor on the envelope itself, the sender apparently wishing to remain anonymous. She couldn't help but wonder who would leave them there, the cryptic words failing to immediately form into a clue as she pondered them.

A knock at the door made her jump.

"Miss Tachibana?"

She turned around. The door was partially ajar, the head peeking around it into the room the familiar face of the orderly from earlier; Otonashi.

"I'd rather not receive guests now." She wasn't rude, but simply to the point, an emotional guard of sorts erecting itself just in case a repeat of earlier events came around. It had distracted her from her best performance, and Kanade really didn't want to have it haunting her the rest of the night too.

"Sorry, but, it's about the shipping plans for your piano…" Otonashi was much more meek than he had been before, though, which caused Kanade to at least partially drop her guard.

"Can we handle it later?" she asked with a sigh.

"Yes, but…"

Kanade cut him off, though her words were soft and unimposing; a simple request, "Then, please. I'd rather be alone right now."

Yuzuru looked at her in silence for a few moments, as if he were trying to come to a decision. In the end he simply allowed himself a deep sigh and a nod, "Fine."

In a moment he was gone, the door closing much more quietly behind him this time.

Kanade simply stood there and tried to think. Looking around at the roses once more there was clearly a lot for her to think about.

She wondered if…

-o-O-o-

Chapter 2: A Rose By Any Other Name…

Author's Note: Forgive me. It's been two years. I began. I intend to finish. Time as of late has not been on my side. I tend to write what I feel, so priorities come and they go, as do interests. I still adore Angel Beats!, but it wasn't the best outlet at the time. Still, it's up there on my list. And I plan to get to the end of Book III as soon as I can.

Thank you for your patience.