This chapter is one of the most 'focused' chapters in the arc, i.e., no shift of POV, and little time displacement. I'm not quite satisfied with some parts...afraid that it's a little unnatural, but it'll have to do unless I can think of something better. ^.^;;

Technical Notes : The song used in this chapter [Yuuen na Stranger] is an orginal, supposedly of 'Misére Bénie's. It's made in a mock Japanese song translation style, and it's not suppposed to rhyme, nor have proper iambic pentameter. >.< Writing it drove me crazy. I personally think that it's a lame lame song. *sighs miserably* The all-capitals English words are the words that will remain in English even in the 'original' Japanese version. ^.^;;;


Switchblade Senritsu | Trembling Shin Seiki
by Djinn

Track 1. Yuuen na Stranger
Your lips are full yet yield nothing
But you say everything you need
With your DIAMOND eyes that GLITTER like secrets

- Yuuen na Stranger | Misére Bénie | L'Ange Déchu

Allegro non molto.

Aggiacoiato tremar trŕ nevi algenti
Al severo spirar d’orrido vento,
Correr battendo i piedi ogni momento;
E per soverchio gel batter i denti...

And he was the wind.

A dark, invisible fiend, howling like a wounded animal, a demon, the devil. Cruel, capricious, but always with the same raging intent. To whip, frost-cold, to chill.

To kill.

Largo.

...Passar al foco i di quieti e contenti
Mentre la poggia fuor bagna ben cento...

And he was the rain.

Falling, always falling. Lonely, always lonely. A misty haze of an ever-plaintive wail. A heartache, a heartbreak. A lost and lonesome fading dying sigh.

Allegro.

...Caminar sopra ‘l ghiaccio, e ŕ passo lento
Per timor di cader gersene intenti;
Gir forte sdruzziolar, Cader ŕ terra
Di nuovo ir sopra ‘l giaccio e correr forte
Sin ch’ il giaccio si rompe, e si dissera;
Sentir uscir dalle serrate porte
Sirocco Borea, e tutti i Venti in guerra
Quest’ č ‘l verno, mŕ tal, che gioja apporte.

And he was the ice.

Sharp and treacherous, heartless, like a marble lover. A secret silent killer.

And he was, again, the wind.

All of them, like wolves, like wraiths, tearing at throats and bleeding a matterless blood, and seeking, yet, for a much warmer blood, fresh and hot from living throats, everywhere, a terrible, terrifying beast -

Yet.

Beautiful.

Fini.

And he was nothing.

The wave of applause swept over him like the debris of a frozen storm. He stood there, panting, wide-eyed, staring at the rapturous faces of the substantial audience.

And did not see.

* * * * * * *

The coolness of the running water came as a welcome reprieve from the oppressiveness of the dressing room. Carefully nudging his violin case out of harm’s way, he splashed some of it onto his face, drying off with a prepared face-towel.

He could still feel it. The music.

Laying a long-fingered hand on his cheek, he could still feel the heat. The music burned its way into his soul.

But his fingertips were cold. Good.

Sighing a little, he stayed like that, staring pensively at his reflection.

A little thoughtful, at least, what could be seen of the eyes behind the thick lenses. A little melancholic. A little lost. But beyond that...nothing.

It was always the same way. The music, and nothing. And somewhere between the twain, he’d lost himself.

"Ne, ne, Touru!" She exclaimed as he emerged from the washroom, "You were great up there!"

He blinked twice, peering at her face mutely before he recalled who she was...and who he was.

"Arigatou." He murmured politely, not resisting as she took his arm.

"Demo, being around all that classical music all the time’s pretty boring. Ne, itoko?"

He did not bother to comment.

She merely laughed, dragging him out into the brisk night air that nipped at the concert-goers exiting Suntory Hall. She knew him too well to take offense.

"Let me take you to a very different concert now! The show must be half over, but that’s alright! I know the door guards at Blitz! They’ll let us in!"

She flagged down a taxi with ease, hustled him and his violin case inside as she threw herself in after him.

He merely complied with her wishes. He knew her too well to take offence.

* * * * * * *

She chattered incessantly as the taxi wove through traffic, so much so that even the driver cast back an inquiring eye. He let her, long used to it, only keeping half an ear open as he stared out into the night, seeing but not seeing the twisted black branches of leafless trees. The frost of mid-winter had killed off the green, leaving only the lonely frames. He considered this, and wished he hadn’t. It sounded too much like the permanent winter of his life.

"...And then he said that I could drop by anytime, he’d tell the guards to let me in if I only wanted to. Wasn’t that nice of him, Touru?"

"Mm."

Sometimes he wondered if she talked so much because she liked the sound of her own voice, but he knew that it was more than a little unfair to think so. She was just friendly. Vivacious. Enthusiastic. His own mother had said so when she was just a child. Now, at twenty-two, practically everyone in the whole of Japan said so. A top talent scout at twenty-two. Phenomenal! But she had a good ear for music. And vivacity. Enthusiasm. More than he could say for himself. His mother had said so.

But then, he was a violinist. He shouldn’t complain.

He didn’t.

"...I usually don’t do this, it’s terribly rude to just walk in. But this band, it’s different! The inside track is that they’re the most likely to clinch Tokyo Dome for Christmas this year! It’s an amazing achievement for such a new band."

She hopped out of the taxi as it pulled up alongside the building, gesturing impatiently for him to extricate himself.

"And the members aren’t bad-looking either, they already have a large female fan base. But the lead singer really tops it all, he’s a regular bishounen! I quite fancy him myself."

She giggled slightly, never breaking her stride. He kept pace easily, swinging his violin case by his side.

"Konbanwa, Daisuke-san!" she called out cheerily as they neared the entrance, "Is Akito-san around?"

The young doorman brightened up instantly, smiling shyly as he nodded an affirmative.

"Hai, Shimura-san! Akito-sempai! Shimura-san is looking for you!"

A strapping man appeared from inside the concert hall, a broad smile on his face.

"It’s good to see you, Kyoko-san! I expect you’re here to see the new band?"

"It’s good to see you too, Akito-san," she laughed brightly, clearly pleased to find him here, "Actually, I was bringing my cousin here to see them."

"This is your cousin?" The man eyed him, "A tall one, isn’t he? Basketball player?"

"Not at all!" She laughed again, "He’s a violinist. Let me introduce the two of you. Touru, this is Ishikawa Akito. He’s the head of security around here. Akito-san, this is my cousin, Touru. Hanagata Touru."

"Pleased to meet you." He bowed, feeling stupid and out of place.

"My pleasure." The security head returned, smiling easily. "I’m not sure the band will be to your taste, though. You seem more of the classical sort."

"He is, but I don’t care. I’ll make him like this." She cut in, pulling impatiently on his arm, "Now, if you’ll excuse me...how far is it into the concert?"

"You’re here at a bad time," he shook his head, "They’re already into the encore. You might be able to catch the last song if you hurry."

"Hai! Arigatou!"

And she was dragging him through the double doors. The security head cheerfully gave a parting wave. He could only tip his head sheepishly.

"The band’s name is ‘Misére Bénie’," she whispered as they found a small standing area near the back of the first floor, ignoring the dirty look of the surrounding fans, "Cool, ne? It’s more rock than anything, mostly dark, a little Goth, though sometimes they have a couple of ballads, a real mixed bag. And they won’t admit it, but everyone knows they’re visual kei. Their stage-names are all in French, there’re rumours that their real names have leaked out on the net, but it’s not confirmed yet. All of them are pretty good, at least above average. But the one I really want you to look out for is the lead singer. They call him ‘L'Ange Déchu’. Pretty dramatic, I know, but he warrants it. Can you see him? ‘Cause I can’t."

He stifled a smile, trying not to laugh at his much shorter cousin. The flat floor of Akasaka Blitz made it hard for the vertically challenged to see the stage.

He had no such problem.

The audience was cheering as he looked up, shouts of ‘encore’ in the air. He could see the band on the stage, a little unclear over the considerable distance. He pushed up his black-rimmed spectacles, trying to get a better look...

...The one in front. That must be the one.

L'Ange Déchu.

How contrived. A mean little voice commented in his head. And narcissistic. ‘The fallen angel’ is not a name for just any person.

Though, of course, he had to admit, the man on stage did not look like ‘just any person’. His face, in the least, was a little like that of an angel’s. His eyes were big, but with more than enough intensity to keep them from being adorable, nauseatingly so. He did not seem purely Asian. The gold streaks in his hair were surely bottled, but the brown base looked natural. Kyoko had been right. This rockstar was a regular bishounen.

In fact, he was loath to admit the stirrings of a shy passion already twisting tendrils around his heart. But he knew it would pass. It always did.

Then the singer smiled, a devil’s smirk, out of place, yet so natural, on an angel’s face.

And then, he sang.

"Do you have something to tell me?
Your smile says so
But you’re not smiling at all
You confuse me.

Do you have secrets to sell me?
Your sway says so
But you’re not moving at all
You excite me.

You, standing there, you
Who look as if you own the world
You who look at me with your eyes that GLITTER darkly like secrets
Piercing through my SOUL
You enchant me
ENSLAVE me

Your lips are full yet yield nothing
But you say everything you need
With your DIAMOND eyes that GLITTER like secrets
Where did you come from?
Who are you?
Why did you break into my world with PASSIONATE dreams and your eyes?
Do you even know me?
Do you care who am I?
Mesmerising STRANGER
Make me yours, you’ll be mine."

The guitar riff slid in like fine wine, but he was too far gone to notice. The face, the eyes, and most of all, that voice. It was like velvet, a low silky purr, dangerous, seductive, wild. It had the touch of hell, tainted with darkness and the fire beyond, yet, such a gift...it was surely...surely from heaven. It slid, wrapped around him like shadowy vines, caressing him, constricting him, killing him whole.

The fallen angel had slain another.

"You, standing there, you
Like a stone-cold APHRODITE
Would my BLOOD even satisfy you, or would you just turn away?
Poison in my VEINS
You enthral me
DESTROY me

Your lips are full yet yield nothing
But you say everything you need
With your DIAMOND eyes that GLITTER like secrets
Where did you come from?
Who are you?
Why did you break into my world with PASSIONATE dreams and your eyes?
Do you even know me?
Do you care who am I?
Mesmerising STRANGER

Make me yours, you’ll be mine."

This man, with his make-up, his glitter, his hair, his eyes, his voice. Hands on the mike like a professional, smooth, assured, cold, savage, flawless. Perfect.

He made him feel, for the first time he could remember outside of the music, alive.

Up there on the stage...there was a piece of his soul.

"You say everything
With your DIAMOND eyes that GLITTER
Cold and hard
...Yet precious."

And it was over, and the audience was cheering, the second floor on their feet. The band gathered at the front of the stage, bowed, resplendent in their leather and glitter. Bowed again, waved, disappeared.

And amidst the applause and the cheering and the stamping, amidst the chaotic frenzy of the crowd, he stood there, stunned, a familiar heat in his cheeks in an unfamiliar situation, a constriction in his throat, a painful contraction around his pounding heart.

They left the hall, strolling to Akasaka station in the crisp winter air. She laughed, smiled at him.

"So...what do you think of Misére Bénie?"

The singer’s eyes haunted his vision, his voice echoed inside his head. It painted a slight flush in his cheeks, not unlike that brought by a cold wind. It swabbed a dryness in his mouth. It speared a breathless throbbing in his heart.

"They’re alright." He said.

to be continued...


Coming up next : Track 2. 'Daiyamondo' Pride
An unexpected job opportunity! [As described by Mae[Hikou] ^.^;;]


I’m still pretty unsatisfied with some things, and I think the ‘song’ sucks, but I just don’t have the skill to do any better. >.< Maybe next time.

Translations/Explanations :

Yuuen na Stranger - 'Mesmerising' Stranger. Also, 'charming', 'fascinating' stranger. The song this title belongs to is the one Fujima sings in the fic. A 'Misére Bénie' release, this one was written by Fujima. [Well, supposedly. ^.^;;] Personally, I think this song is lame lame lame. It's things like this that make me hate myself. >.< As mentioned above, it's made in a mock Japanese song translation style, and it's not suppposed to rhyme, nor have proper iambic pentameter. The all-capitals English words are the words that will remain in English even in the 'original' Japanese version.

Winter - The composition that Hanagata was playing at the beginning of the fic is Antonio Vivaldi's 'Winter', part of 'Seasons', with the three movements being an 'Allegro non Molto', a 'Largo', and an 'Allegro', in that order. Mostly made for violin, it also exists in more contemporary forms like acoustic guitar. The accompanying sonata used here is in it's original Italian, which I hope fervently I haven't messed up ^.^;;, written by Vivaldi himself to describe the movement, though not to be used in conjunction with. The rough translation is as follows :
To tremble from the cold in the icy snow,
in the harsh breath of a horrid wind;
to run, stamping our feet every moment,
our teeth chattering in the extreme cold.
Before the fire to pass peaceful contented days
while the rain outside pours down.
To walk on the ice and, at a slow pace
forfear of falling, move carefully.
To make a bold turn, to slip, to fall down.
To go on the ice once more and run hard
until the ice breaks up.
To hear the sirocco, (warm south wind) Boreas,
and all the winds at war behind closed doors:
this is winter, but, even so, what joy it brings!

[Translator uncredited on original site [already defunct]]

Suntory Hall - A real, and rather famous concert hall in the Minato-Ku region. Accessible from Akasaka station, but still a good distance away. ^.^

Akasaka Blitz - Facts covered in the Overture. ^.^ The reason thus for choosing it is, firstly, the distance in relation to Suntory Hall, and secondly, its level floor. ^.^

Tokyo Dome - Only the most famous hall in Tokyo, no biggie. *Kidding* More on it later.

Visual kei - Visual[type] band. Eeh, I might have gotten the translation somewhat off, but the meaning is commonly held to be Jrock bands who have a stake on 'good looks', especially enchanced by make-up, effects, and a lot of nice photoshoots. ^.^ Famous examples would be Malice Mizer, Dir en Grey, etc. I >like< visual kei. They're good inspiration for pics, and mostly have dark lyrics with lots of imagery.