I want to hold you high
I found this story on women writers in literature very interesting. It's actually a book review, but it lays out the book's main argument quite thoroughly, and addresses the interesting question of why women are so marginalized in English-language literature.
But mostly, I needed to put up this story . . . which isn't very good, but will get edited and changed later. It's just that it really, really needs to go up. Written for saiun_challenge . . . yet another random Saiunkoku AU! It also needs a better title, since the current one is just my working title, and my working titles are random and terrible and often obscure jokes.
This was originally supposed to be a song fic, and ended up being inspired by two songs: the first is "POP STAR," by Ken Hirai, and the second is "Broken," by Seether and featuring Amy Lee. Click on the links for downloads!
The story itself has a lot of issues that I need to fix, but I simply can't wait any longer to post it.
"He's not coming, is he?" Kouyuu managed to say the words with surprising calm.
Shuuei flipped his phone closed, resigned. "I can't get ahold of him. So either his phone's off, or he forgot it--"
"--or he lost it, or he's ignoring it." Forget calm. Kouyuu slammed his music binder shut. "Damn him! How long is he going to keep wasting all of our time?"
"He is under contract," Shou rumbled. The old man seemed more amused than annoyed, sitting back in his chair and idly stroking the neat white beard he wore cropped close along his jaw. "He still owes us a song, and we will collect."
It was not threatening, but Shuuei shuddered anyway. Shou was their manager, assigned by The Label, but something about his perfectly pressed dark suit and his utter refusal to be anything other than amused by their capricious and unreliable lead singer gave Shuuei the creeps. "He'll have it. He told me he would, the last time I saw him. He said he was a bit blocked now, was all."
"A bit blocked? What the hell is up with that! Some genius!"
"Even genius is worthless if you don't use it," Shou said, a smile emerging from behind his hand. "Don't worry. All we need to do is catch him and tie him down-- and I know exactly how to do it."
* * * * * *
Ryuuki ran a distracted hand through his hair, then realized what he was doing and, muttering, tried to fixed the bleached strands into place again with his fingers. He still wasn't used to it, and despite the lectures he'd endured lately from the stylist dispatched by The Label to tailor his appearance, he found it hard to be consistent. "Your image is just as important as your music, Shusui had told him gently as she weeded out his closet. He was beginning to understand why, but that didn't mean he liked it. There was a whole lot more to this music business than he'd ever dreamed when he'd started. Just songs to sing and a love of singing them wasn't enough.
"Ryuuki!"
He recognized the voice immediately and jumped to his feet, pushing his bangs out of his face-- then remembered Shusui, cursed, and moved them back. He unhooked the dangling straps on his pants from where they'd caught on the bench and grabbed his bag.
"Ryuuki?"
The voice was getting farther away. He vaulted the rail of the gazebo and set out at a fast trot through the garden after it. He paused before he rounded a corner, hidden behind the trunk of a giant camphor, and ran a quick inventory-- jacket collar turned up, check; bulky wallet chain fixed, check; trousers low on his hips, check; boot tops folded casually just so, check. He took a deep breath, slung his bag over one shoulder, and affected just enough saunter as he rounded the corner.
He quickly forgot about his careful efforts at having an image when he saw a straight, familiar back and straight, glossy black hair. She didn't notice him, was walking away-- "Shuurei!" he called after her, and broke into a run.
She heard him and turned, and his heart leaped at her welcoming smile. "There you are! I've been looking all over-- where were you?
"In the gazebo," he said, and relieved her of the bag she was carrying. "Wow this is heavy. What are you carrying, anyway?"
"Music-- a couple of my projects, actually. I thought we could discuss them during lunch, what do you think?"
He hesitated, but only for a fraction of a second. "Okay, sure!"
Because really, he couldn't pass on the opportunity to discuss songs and music with Shuurei, it would be unbearable. Even if he was trying to keep his position as front man and lead singer for Butterfly Cage a secret, it wasn't like that came out when they were playing around with lyrics and matching melodies to chords. Talking about singing was also pretty safe; it was when the conversation turned to performing that he was on shaky ground. He just had to watch himself, though, that was all--
--but with Shuurei, that was plenty hard enough. Once they'd eaten they shoved the empty plates and cups aside, but both of them leaning over to look at Shuurei's music, turned sideways, proved annoyingly awkward. Shuurei didn't object when he scooted over to the booth side to sit next to her, which made things much easier. From a logistical standpoint, at least, because it also upped the temptation to examine her intent face, to brush her fingers, to maybe-if-he-was-brave-and-lucky put an arm around her shoulders without her objecting.
He wasn't brave or lucky today, though, just supremely distracted. He was thinking about how their legs were right next to each other on the bench when he said, "Here, right here. You need some more support, or it'll fall flat in a big space."
"Here?" She tapped a finger on the notes in question. "But just the vocal is fine, right?"
"But before that you've got a three-part harmony going-- cut back that far and you'll lose the audience. I tried something like that, and--"
"You did?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
"I-- um, that is, I was at a concert once, and they-- um-- did that kind of thing." Shit he was bad at this. "You'd be better off layering your voice, or having a backup singer or two, or cutting it to a single instrument as a base," he rushed on.
"Hmm, that might be good," she said, making a note to herself.
Ryuuki tried to keep his sigh of relief that she hadn't pursued his slip further as small as possible.
All too soon Shuurei was checking her watch and closing her binder. "I've got class," she explained. They paid together-- half and half; Shuurei always insisted. He knew that money was tight with her, and so he had declared early on his taste for hole-in-the-wall dives where the food was plentiful . . . and cheap. She never complained about her situation, though, and he admired her all the more for it. He couldn't imagine trying to start a solo career while still going to school, and doing it entirely on scholarships and loans.
They parted ways in the park where they had met, which just happened to lie between the campus of Shuurei's school and the offices and recording studios of The Label. Ryuuki watched her until she was out of sight, and then returned to the gazebo to collapse on the wooden bench. It was so wonderful when he was with her, but he always felt awful after she left. The solitary hours just seemed to stretch away into forever.
He sighed and pulled his battered staff-paper Moleskine from his bag, flipping morosely through the dog-eared pages. He'd almost had enough courage to show it to her today-- almost almost. The book fell open on its own in his hands. There among the doodles and scribbles were the bones of a melody he'd worked out, and the accompaniment to go with it. He mouthed the lyrics to himself-- there were no cross-outs; the song had come to him whole and entire, during that blinding instant not long after he'd met Shuurei, when he'd looked into her eyes and known. He ran a black-painted fingernail under the notes, following their dip and soar, imagining the simplicity of the acoustic guitar beside them-- and then here, something else to come with the other voice--
"You writing something?"
"GAH!" Ryuuki jumped a mile at the sound of Shuuei's sudden, close voice, slamming the notebook closed and stuffing it behind his back. "Sh-Shuuei! What are you doing here?"
Shuuei raised his eyebrows. "I wasn't aware that this was a private park, and it is right next to The Label," he pointed out, leaning his guitar case against the rail and settling on the bench. "Where we had a meeting today, as you might recall."
"We did?" Ryuuki said, doing his very best to look surprised.
"Yes, we did. A meeting where you were supposed to deliver the lyrics for another song, remember? The last one to make our debut album?" Shuuei's smile was making his face hurt. "Kouyuu was livid."
Ryuuki wilted, slumping forward to put his arms on the gazebo's wooden table, and his head on his arms. "He was really mad, huh?"
"He's very serious about this," Shuuei reminded his friend with a sigh. "Are you really blocked, Ryuuki? Or is it something else? What are you waiting for?"
Even Ryuuki's spiked-up hair was drooping now. "It isn't supposed to be me," he said miserably. "I'm just . . . a place-holder. If it goes much farther, then . . ."
Shuuei felt his lips compress. A place-holder? The implications of that resounded through his head. And . . . what if it's already gone too far? He knew that his thoughts mirrored Ryuuki's exactly, and that he wasn't going to get any more out of his friend. Which meant a change of topic was necessary. "So who did you blow us over for?"
Ryuuki perked up a little, grateful. "Her name is-- wait, who says I blew you over for anybody? I forgot!"
Shuuei rolled his eyes. "Suuuuure you did . . . wait a minute, her? You're dating a girl?"
"I'm not!" Ryuuki was back to bristling with indignation, trying to deny it.
"Hm, the one I passed coming in, right?" Shuuei always remembered women, it was a gift he had. "Mm, yeah, guess she was pretty cute, hey? Didn't know that was your type. How long has it been?"
"I wasn't-- I--" Ryuuki gave up; Shuuei always knew when he was trying to cover something up. Actually, it seemed like everyone did. "Couple weeks now, I guess."
"And? How is she?" Shuuei folded his arms and smirked knowingly.
"Shuuei!" Ryuuki immediately transitioned into one of his outrageous pouts. "See, this is why I didn't tell you."
Ryuuki was really too fun to tease, and far too easy. "Has she stayed at your place yet? Third base? Oh, come on, second." Shuuei took one look at Ryuuki's face and his eyebrows shot towards his hairline. "Don't tell me you haven't even kissed her yet."
"You don't understand! I mean, there's-- issues and stuff," Ryuuki said defensively.
"So what do you do?"
"We-- well, you know, we go and get food, or coffee or something. And we talk, about music and things . . . she's really smart, and she's got a great instinct for it. And sometimes we walk a little, if she has time before class . . ."
Ryuuki was spacing out, staring into the distance. "That's very . . . sweet," Shuuei said, suddenly at a loss. It was much harder to tease his friend when Ryuuki was so obviously mooning; it made him feel like he was kicking a puppy. Then a thought occurred to him. "Wait a minute. Does she know she's dating you?"
"Of course she does! I mean, well, obviously-- I mean, we haven't exactly discussed it, but--"
Suddenly Ryuuki's eyes focused on something in the distance. "Oooooh crap! Sorry, Shuuei, great talking to you, I gotta go!" He grabbed his bag and vaulted over the rail of the gazebo, disappearing at a flat-out sprint through the thick bushes around it.
"What the--" Shuuei noticed the black notebook on the bench and grabbed it. "Ryuuki, wait, you forgot your . . . " But his bandmate and friend was already gone, and Shuuei knew just how impossible it was to catch Ryuuki when he didn't want to be caught. He couldn't very well leave his guitar, anyway. "Dumbass," he sighed, settling back down to think. He would give Ryuuki the notebook later on, he figured, or leave a message on Ryuuki's cell. Ryuuki might even check it, for once.
Shuuei tapped his fingers idly on the scratched black cover as he thought back to what he knew of Ryuuki. He remembered him mentioning once that he'd had an older brother, one who had been a musical prodigy; was that what he was--
"Why, hello, Shuuei," a familiar voice said in a far-too-pleasant tone, and it was Shuuei's turn to jump. Shou was right next to him, sitting on the bench in his tailored suit and smiling that damnable smile of his. "You wouldn't have happened to have seen Ryuuki recently, would you?"
"Me? Ah-- er, of course not," Shuuei said, and wondered when it was that he'd gotten bad at lying. Maybe Ryuuki was infectious, somehow. Not a good sign. "I, um, didn't expect to see you here."
"Why not? This park is right across from The Label. In fact, I have a rather nice view of it through my office window." With impressive speed and the exquisite dexterity of a born thief, Shou slid the notebook out from under Shuuei's idle fingers.
Shuuei snatched for it, too late. "Hey, that's Ryuuki's!"
Shou flipped through it and smiled, obviously pleased with himself. "And inside it, that would be our song," he said, snapping the notebook closed again. "You and Kouyuu are due at The Label at ten tomorrow. Tell Ryuuki I want him there at noon, if he wants this back." Shou waved the notebook over his shoulder at Shuuei as he headed out of the park.
* * * * * *
Ryuuki tried not to drag the extended toes of his boots too much as he pushed through the glass doors of The Label. People always said that labels were evil, but he had never really expected blackmail and extortion.
He was dragging his feet out the elevator when two people ran down past him-- "Where did you say?" one of them said to the other.
"The fifth soundstage--" he heard from the other as they rounded the corner.
He frowned-- wasn't that was where he was supposed to meet Shou and his bandmates?-- and broke into a jog. What was going on?
The sound of acoustic guitar and a synthesizer turned to violins and electric piano halted him in his tracks. Usually the stages were soundproof, but this time the door was propped open to accommodate the small crowd of people standing there listening. And the music-- instrumental only, and not totally the same, but he knew it, though he'd only heard it in his head, or hummed the harmonies to himself, or experimented a little on the battered six-string he liked to practice on-- that was his song!
He tore open the door to the sound room and stomped through. Shou swiveled his leather chair to face him, and Ryuuki's eyes immediately focused on the black cover of his precious Moleskine held so casually in Shou's hands. "You stole that!" he accused the manager furiously.
"Nonsense," Shou said mildly. "You forgot it in the park, I'm quite happy to return it to you."
"You had no right to read it!" Ryuuki glared. "That's my song in there!" he indicated the sound stage through the glass with a slash of his hand.
"According to your contract, that would be our song, and the last one for Butterfly Cage's debut album," Shou said, calm and perfectly collected.
Shuuei and Kouyuu had stopped playing by that point, Ryuuki's voice coming through on their headphones. "I played with your arrangement a bit," Kouyuu said, his voice carried through the speakers set in the booth. "It was a bit too bare as it was, so I added a little to it. We're going to need a drummer, too."
"A duet definitely, though, like you wrote it," Shou nodded and stroked his beard. "I've already got someone lined up, in fact--"
"This song was supposed to be private!" Ryuuki said, his voice going up.
Sudden silence greeted him-- not a one of them had ever heard him raise his voice, or at least not in honest anger.
". . . you don't want to do it?" That was a woman's voice from the shadowed corner of the sound stage; Ryuuki hadn't even realized there was anyone there. But the voice was familiar somehow, as was the shape of a figure moving towards him. "I thought it was a good song, but if you don't want it performed then that's that, right? Maybe we can do a different one. Or . . . do you not want to do a duet at all?"
Someone had yanked the floor straight out from under Ryuuki's feet. He could feel himself gaping, realized distantly that it was completely uncool, but couldn't seem to stop. "Shu . . . Shuurei? What are you doing here?"
"I signed with The Label just the other day-- they're going to be managing my debut, too." Shuurei pulled the augmented headphones from her ears and set them on the ledge of the counter. "Mr. Shou said it would be a good boost if I sang with a group like Butterfly Cage, one that's already got a lot of press going into their debut album. But if you don't want to, I think it'll be fine--"
"I-- no, no!" Ryuuki waved his hands in frantic denial, left sputtering with his righteous anger of a moment before snuffed out like a candle. "I mean, I do want to sing with you, I really really do! I was just-- surprised, and I wasn't expecting-- I didn't know that-- of course this song is fine . . ." His mind struggled to cope with the sudden realization-- she wasn't at all surprised to see him? How long had she known, who had told her?
"Well, then," Shou rumbled, obviously pleased with himself. "If you two would step into the soundstage, why not run through it now?"
But mostly, I needed to put up this story . . . which isn't very good, but will get edited and changed later. It's just that it really, really needs to go up. Written for saiun_challenge . . . yet another random Saiunkoku AU! It also needs a better title, since the current one is just my working title, and my working titles are random and terrible and often obscure jokes.
This was originally supposed to be a song fic, and ended up being inspired by two songs: the first is "POP STAR," by Ken Hirai, and the second is "Broken," by Seether and featuring Amy Lee. Click on the links for downloads!
The story itself has a lot of issues that I need to fix, but I simply can't wait any longer to post it.
"He's not coming, is he?" Kouyuu managed to say the words with surprising calm.
Shuuei flipped his phone closed, resigned. "I can't get ahold of him. So either his phone's off, or he forgot it--"
"--or he lost it, or he's ignoring it." Forget calm. Kouyuu slammed his music binder shut. "Damn him! How long is he going to keep wasting all of our time?"
"He is under contract," Shou rumbled. The old man seemed more amused than annoyed, sitting back in his chair and idly stroking the neat white beard he wore cropped close along his jaw. "He still owes us a song, and we will collect."
It was not threatening, but Shuuei shuddered anyway. Shou was their manager, assigned by The Label, but something about his perfectly pressed dark suit and his utter refusal to be anything other than amused by their capricious and unreliable lead singer gave Shuuei the creeps. "He'll have it. He told me he would, the last time I saw him. He said he was a bit blocked now, was all."
"A bit blocked? What the hell is up with that! Some genius!"
"Even genius is worthless if you don't use it," Shou said, a smile emerging from behind his hand. "Don't worry. All we need to do is catch him and tie him down-- and I know exactly how to do it."
* * * * * *
Ryuuki ran a distracted hand through his hair, then realized what he was doing and, muttering, tried to fixed the bleached strands into place again with his fingers. He still wasn't used to it, and despite the lectures he'd endured lately from the stylist dispatched by The Label to tailor his appearance, he found it hard to be consistent. "Your image is just as important as your music, Shusui had told him gently as she weeded out his closet. He was beginning to understand why, but that didn't mean he liked it. There was a whole lot more to this music business than he'd ever dreamed when he'd started. Just songs to sing and a love of singing them wasn't enough.
"Ryuuki!"
He recognized the voice immediately and jumped to his feet, pushing his bangs out of his face-- then remembered Shusui, cursed, and moved them back. He unhooked the dangling straps on his pants from where they'd caught on the bench and grabbed his bag.
"Ryuuki?"
The voice was getting farther away. He vaulted the rail of the gazebo and set out at a fast trot through the garden after it. He paused before he rounded a corner, hidden behind the trunk of a giant camphor, and ran a quick inventory-- jacket collar turned up, check; bulky wallet chain fixed, check; trousers low on his hips, check; boot tops folded casually just so, check. He took a deep breath, slung his bag over one shoulder, and affected just enough saunter as he rounded the corner.
He quickly forgot about his careful efforts at having an image when he saw a straight, familiar back and straight, glossy black hair. She didn't notice him, was walking away-- "Shuurei!" he called after her, and broke into a run.
She heard him and turned, and his heart leaped at her welcoming smile. "There you are! I've been looking all over-- where were you?
"In the gazebo," he said, and relieved her of the bag she was carrying. "Wow this is heavy. What are you carrying, anyway?"
"Music-- a couple of my projects, actually. I thought we could discuss them during lunch, what do you think?"
He hesitated, but only for a fraction of a second. "Okay, sure!"
Because really, he couldn't pass on the opportunity to discuss songs and music with Shuurei, it would be unbearable. Even if he was trying to keep his position as front man and lead singer for Butterfly Cage a secret, it wasn't like that came out when they were playing around with lyrics and matching melodies to chords. Talking about singing was also pretty safe; it was when the conversation turned to performing that he was on shaky ground. He just had to watch himself, though, that was all--
--but with Shuurei, that was plenty hard enough. Once they'd eaten they shoved the empty plates and cups aside, but both of them leaning over to look at Shuurei's music, turned sideways, proved annoyingly awkward. Shuurei didn't object when he scooted over to the booth side to sit next to her, which made things much easier. From a logistical standpoint, at least, because it also upped the temptation to examine her intent face, to brush her fingers, to maybe-if-he-was-brave-and-lucky put an arm around her shoulders without her objecting.
He wasn't brave or lucky today, though, just supremely distracted. He was thinking about how their legs were right next to each other on the bench when he said, "Here, right here. You need some more support, or it'll fall flat in a big space."
"Here?" She tapped a finger on the notes in question. "But just the vocal is fine, right?"
"But before that you've got a three-part harmony going-- cut back that far and you'll lose the audience. I tried something like that, and--"
"You did?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
"I-- um, that is, I was at a concert once, and they-- um-- did that kind of thing." Shit he was bad at this. "You'd be better off layering your voice, or having a backup singer or two, or cutting it to a single instrument as a base," he rushed on.
"Hmm, that might be good," she said, making a note to herself.
Ryuuki tried to keep his sigh of relief that she hadn't pursued his slip further as small as possible.
All too soon Shuurei was checking her watch and closing her binder. "I've got class," she explained. They paid together-- half and half; Shuurei always insisted. He knew that money was tight with her, and so he had declared early on his taste for hole-in-the-wall dives where the food was plentiful . . . and cheap. She never complained about her situation, though, and he admired her all the more for it. He couldn't imagine trying to start a solo career while still going to school, and doing it entirely on scholarships and loans.
They parted ways in the park where they had met, which just happened to lie between the campus of Shuurei's school and the offices and recording studios of The Label. Ryuuki watched her until she was out of sight, and then returned to the gazebo to collapse on the wooden bench. It was so wonderful when he was with her, but he always felt awful after she left. The solitary hours just seemed to stretch away into forever.
He sighed and pulled his battered staff-paper Moleskine from his bag, flipping morosely through the dog-eared pages. He'd almost had enough courage to show it to her today-- almost almost. The book fell open on its own in his hands. There among the doodles and scribbles were the bones of a melody he'd worked out, and the accompaniment to go with it. He mouthed the lyrics to himself-- there were no cross-outs; the song had come to him whole and entire, during that blinding instant not long after he'd met Shuurei, when he'd looked into her eyes and known. He ran a black-painted fingernail under the notes, following their dip and soar, imagining the simplicity of the acoustic guitar beside them-- and then here, something else to come with the other voice--
"You writing something?"
"GAH!" Ryuuki jumped a mile at the sound of Shuuei's sudden, close voice, slamming the notebook closed and stuffing it behind his back. "Sh-Shuuei! What are you doing here?"
Shuuei raised his eyebrows. "I wasn't aware that this was a private park, and it is right next to The Label," he pointed out, leaning his guitar case against the rail and settling on the bench. "Where we had a meeting today, as you might recall."
"We did?" Ryuuki said, doing his very best to look surprised.
"Yes, we did. A meeting where you were supposed to deliver the lyrics for another song, remember? The last one to make our debut album?" Shuuei's smile was making his face hurt. "Kouyuu was livid."
Ryuuki wilted, slumping forward to put his arms on the gazebo's wooden table, and his head on his arms. "He was really mad, huh?"
"He's very serious about this," Shuuei reminded his friend with a sigh. "Are you really blocked, Ryuuki? Or is it something else? What are you waiting for?"
Even Ryuuki's spiked-up hair was drooping now. "It isn't supposed to be me," he said miserably. "I'm just . . . a place-holder. If it goes much farther, then . . ."
Shuuei felt his lips compress. A place-holder? The implications of that resounded through his head. And . . . what if it's already gone too far? He knew that his thoughts mirrored Ryuuki's exactly, and that he wasn't going to get any more out of his friend. Which meant a change of topic was necessary. "So who did you blow us over for?"
Ryuuki perked up a little, grateful. "Her name is-- wait, who says I blew you over for anybody? I forgot!"
Shuuei rolled his eyes. "Suuuuure you did . . . wait a minute, her? You're dating a girl?"
"I'm not!" Ryuuki was back to bristling with indignation, trying to deny it.
"Hm, the one I passed coming in, right?" Shuuei always remembered women, it was a gift he had. "Mm, yeah, guess she was pretty cute, hey? Didn't know that was your type. How long has it been?"
"I wasn't-- I--" Ryuuki gave up; Shuuei always knew when he was trying to cover something up. Actually, it seemed like everyone did. "Couple weeks now, I guess."
"And? How is she?" Shuuei folded his arms and smirked knowingly.
"Shuuei!" Ryuuki immediately transitioned into one of his outrageous pouts. "See, this is why I didn't tell you."
Ryuuki was really too fun to tease, and far too easy. "Has she stayed at your place yet? Third base? Oh, come on, second." Shuuei took one look at Ryuuki's face and his eyebrows shot towards his hairline. "Don't tell me you haven't even kissed her yet."
"You don't understand! I mean, there's-- issues and stuff," Ryuuki said defensively.
"So what do you do?"
"We-- well, you know, we go and get food, or coffee or something. And we talk, about music and things . . . she's really smart, and she's got a great instinct for it. And sometimes we walk a little, if she has time before class . . ."
Ryuuki was spacing out, staring into the distance. "That's very . . . sweet," Shuuei said, suddenly at a loss. It was much harder to tease his friend when Ryuuki was so obviously mooning; it made him feel like he was kicking a puppy. Then a thought occurred to him. "Wait a minute. Does she know she's dating you?"
"Of course she does! I mean, well, obviously-- I mean, we haven't exactly discussed it, but--"
Suddenly Ryuuki's eyes focused on something in the distance. "Oooooh crap! Sorry, Shuuei, great talking to you, I gotta go!" He grabbed his bag and vaulted over the rail of the gazebo, disappearing at a flat-out sprint through the thick bushes around it.
"What the--" Shuuei noticed the black notebook on the bench and grabbed it. "Ryuuki, wait, you forgot your . . . " But his bandmate and friend was already gone, and Shuuei knew just how impossible it was to catch Ryuuki when he didn't want to be caught. He couldn't very well leave his guitar, anyway. "Dumbass," he sighed, settling back down to think. He would give Ryuuki the notebook later on, he figured, or leave a message on Ryuuki's cell. Ryuuki might even check it, for once.
Shuuei tapped his fingers idly on the scratched black cover as he thought back to what he knew of Ryuuki. He remembered him mentioning once that he'd had an older brother, one who had been a musical prodigy; was that what he was--
"Why, hello, Shuuei," a familiar voice said in a far-too-pleasant tone, and it was Shuuei's turn to jump. Shou was right next to him, sitting on the bench in his tailored suit and smiling that damnable smile of his. "You wouldn't have happened to have seen Ryuuki recently, would you?"
"Me? Ah-- er, of course not," Shuuei said, and wondered when it was that he'd gotten bad at lying. Maybe Ryuuki was infectious, somehow. Not a good sign. "I, um, didn't expect to see you here."
"Why not? This park is right across from The Label. In fact, I have a rather nice view of it through my office window." With impressive speed and the exquisite dexterity of a born thief, Shou slid the notebook out from under Shuuei's idle fingers.
Shuuei snatched for it, too late. "Hey, that's Ryuuki's!"
Shou flipped through it and smiled, obviously pleased with himself. "And inside it, that would be our song," he said, snapping the notebook closed again. "You and Kouyuu are due at The Label at ten tomorrow. Tell Ryuuki I want him there at noon, if he wants this back." Shou waved the notebook over his shoulder at Shuuei as he headed out of the park.
* * * * * *
Ryuuki tried not to drag the extended toes of his boots too much as he pushed through the glass doors of The Label. People always said that labels were evil, but he had never really expected blackmail and extortion.
He was dragging his feet out the elevator when two people ran down past him-- "Where did you say?" one of them said to the other.
"The fifth soundstage--" he heard from the other as they rounded the corner.
He frowned-- wasn't that was where he was supposed to meet Shou and his bandmates?-- and broke into a jog. What was going on?
The sound of acoustic guitar and a synthesizer turned to violins and electric piano halted him in his tracks. Usually the stages were soundproof, but this time the door was propped open to accommodate the small crowd of people standing there listening. And the music-- instrumental only, and not totally the same, but he knew it, though he'd only heard it in his head, or hummed the harmonies to himself, or experimented a little on the battered six-string he liked to practice on-- that was his song!
He tore open the door to the sound room and stomped through. Shou swiveled his leather chair to face him, and Ryuuki's eyes immediately focused on the black cover of his precious Moleskine held so casually in Shou's hands. "You stole that!" he accused the manager furiously.
"Nonsense," Shou said mildly. "You forgot it in the park, I'm quite happy to return it to you."
"You had no right to read it!" Ryuuki glared. "That's my song in there!" he indicated the sound stage through the glass with a slash of his hand.
"According to your contract, that would be our song, and the last one for Butterfly Cage's debut album," Shou said, calm and perfectly collected.
Shuuei and Kouyuu had stopped playing by that point, Ryuuki's voice coming through on their headphones. "I played with your arrangement a bit," Kouyuu said, his voice carried through the speakers set in the booth. "It was a bit too bare as it was, so I added a little to it. We're going to need a drummer, too."
"A duet definitely, though, like you wrote it," Shou nodded and stroked his beard. "I've already got someone lined up, in fact--"
"This song was supposed to be private!" Ryuuki said, his voice going up.
Sudden silence greeted him-- not a one of them had ever heard him raise his voice, or at least not in honest anger.
". . . you don't want to do it?" That was a woman's voice from the shadowed corner of the sound stage; Ryuuki hadn't even realized there was anyone there. But the voice was familiar somehow, as was the shape of a figure moving towards him. "I thought it was a good song, but if you don't want it performed then that's that, right? Maybe we can do a different one. Or . . . do you not want to do a duet at all?"
Someone had yanked the floor straight out from under Ryuuki's feet. He could feel himself gaping, realized distantly that it was completely uncool, but couldn't seem to stop. "Shu . . . Shuurei? What are you doing here?"
"I signed with The Label just the other day-- they're going to be managing my debut, too." Shuurei pulled the augmented headphones from her ears and set them on the ledge of the counter. "Mr. Shou said it would be a good boost if I sang with a group like Butterfly Cage, one that's already got a lot of press going into their debut album. But if you don't want to, I think it'll be fine--"
"I-- no, no!" Ryuuki waved his hands in frantic denial, left sputtering with his righteous anger of a moment before snuffed out like a candle. "I mean, I do want to sing with you, I really really do! I was just-- surprised, and I wasn't expecting-- I didn't know that-- of course this song is fine . . ." His mind struggled to cope with the sudden realization-- she wasn't at all surprised to see him? How long had she known, who had told her?
"Well, then," Shou rumbled, obviously pleased with himself. "If you two would step into the soundstage, why not run through it now?"
