Desert Rose: Prince of Tennis: Ryoma/Taichi: Chapter 1
Title: Desert Rose
Pairing: Echizen Ryoma/Dan Taichi
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine
Chapter 1- Fleur Exotique
He slowly plucked the strings in a rhythmic beat creating a low, soothing sound. Calloused fingers gracefully moved over the neck of a guitar changing the pitches of the sound. The lights were low to add to the mood. In front of him, all eyes were on him as he began to sing a song about unrequited love. His voice was smooth and had perfect pitch fitting the soft guitar melody. Not a sound was made, except for the beautiful guitar music and the voice that accompanied it.
As if cradling the two of us
He strummed the last note on his guitar and bowed as the audience began to applaud. He exited stage left with his guitar as the stage manager came to take his chair. The young man placed his guitar in its case and zipped it up. He sighed in relief; another day at work done. The income wasn’t much, but it kept him going. Besides, in a nightclub like Dreamer, he could have more freedom than a recording artist.
When he was sixteen, he, Echizen Ryoma, ran away from home. He left his home in central Tokyo with only the clothes on his back, his guitar, and a few necessities. He wandered around Tokyo sticking to large crowds, especially during school hours, for days living off of whatever he could scavenge to eat. He finally found a sign asking for freelance performers to perform at Dreamer, a nightclub with a suitable reputation. He used a Social Security card he borrowed to get an audition. He was scheduled to perform on a Friday.
During the performance, his fingers shook from lack of nutrition and exhaustion. Some of the notes even came out sour. His singing was flat and hoarse from sleeping at train stations every cold night. To him, the audition was a failure, but the audience didn’t seem to notice and applauded loudly. The manager was pleased with the reaction the audience had and hired him on the spot. Now, at age seventeen, he worked at Dreamer six days a week five hours a day either performing onstage or serving drinks to customers.
Unlike its less reputable counterparts, Dreamer actually followed the laws about alcoholism; customers had to show their I.D. to get in, only a certain amount of alcohol could be consumed, and any underage kid that tried to sneak in was quickly caught by the policeman on watch. On top of that, anything to do with sex was left out. Many people, especially teenagers, were turned off by those regulations. They prefer hanging out where alcohol could be consumed forever and anything erotic was legal. Despite those regulations, it still had a good flow of customers. Many of the customers were people were here only for a quick drink to celebrate something special and for a nice, clean place to relax.
The young man adjusted his tie and tied on his apron before going out into the nightclub to serve drinks. As he went about the tables placing down bottles of wine, beer, and the occasional soda, people praised him for his beautiful performance and dropped coins and bills into the pocket of his apron. He only nodded in gratitude to those remarks. He collected the empty glasses and bottles at an empty table before grabbing a rag and wiping down the table. The young man carried the tray of empty glasses and bottles over to the bartender who was cleaning an empty glass.
“Oh, hi Echizen,” the bartender greeted warmly.
“Hi Oishi,” replied Ryoma placing the tray on the counter.
“That was a beautiful performance.”
“Work is work.”
Oishi Shuuichirou was the kind of person that would lend an open ear and a comforting shoulder. His soft-edged face, soft, green eyes, and his short haircut gave him a look of sincerity. One could look at his smile and get a feeling that everything was going to be all right. He only worked at Dreamer part-time since he was still in school. He was a college freshman who was studying to be a doctor. Although at first he wasn’t suppose to be working here since he was still underage, he managed to get the job because of a family situation that he never talked about. Ryoma never wondered what it was; he, too, prefer not talking about his past.
Ryoma heard the soft plucks of a guitar and turned to see another performer on stage. Wild, brown hair framed an angular face accompanied with brown eyes behind a pair of glasses giving off an aura of authority and control. This performer, Tezuka Kunimitsu, was a far better player than Ryoma was. Unlike Ryoma, who learned through a book, Tezuka had formal training. The older guitarist began singing a simple, but soothing song.
But the sea knows
Without the wind, the rain cannot fall
But people knows
Without you, the birds cannot fly
The last strum was made and Tezuka stood up to accept the applause. He took a short bow before exiting stage left. Ryoma clapped a few times before going back to serving drinks to customers. He didn’t care much for competition. He was doing this job to earn money, not to try attracting a recording company.
Tezuka, on the other hand, was serious about his career as a guitarist. He was only here to get used to the music production. Everyone knew that he was going to be a musician for a J-pop band soon. According to Oishi, who was an old friend of Tezuka, however, the beautiful guitarist wasn’t interested in becoming a professional musician yet. He prefers to take things slow. Besides, he didn’t like music producers.
“Echizen, can you do me a favor?” a feminine voice asked.
The young man turned around to see the nightclub manager, Fuji Shuusuke. Fuji could easily be mistaken for a woman with his shiny light brown hair and his smile. He normally kept his eyes closed, but when he opened his eyes, two cerulean orbs shown. He was a nice manager, but no one got on his bad side. He could be scary when he’s angry.
“What is it?” Ryoma asked.
“Can you deliver this to the bartender at Fleur Exotique?” the feminine man asked placing a small parcel in Ryoma’s arms.
The young guitarist gave the manager a frown. “No,” he replied. “I don’t like gay clubs.”
“Echizen, that place isn’t gay,” Oishi stated. “Some of the dancers there are just male, that’s all. Come on, Echizen, it won’t be that bad as long as you refuse any drugs.”
Ryoma let a frown ruffle his features making him look like a child pouting. There was no point in arguing once Oishi got involved. “Fine,” he said throwing off his apron before marching out of the nightclub and into the street.
Ryoma had been to Fleur Exotique once. It was less strict on regulations than Dreamer, so he knew that drugs flowed in and out of that place. Fleur Exotique also hired dancers only. The night that Ryoma went there to run an errand, a dancer was up on stage performing an exotic dance that was so erotic, it made his nose bleed. He never went near that place again.
The young guitarist saw Fleur Exotique ahead. The sign was glowing amongst the other signs on the street. Ryoma took a deep breath and pushed the door open. He was hit with a heavy stench of alcohol and cigarettes forcing his nose into his sleeve. Unlike Dreamer, Fleur Exotique had no regulations on how much alcohol one could consume. The more a customer paid, the better. In this club, no one gave a damn if there was a law limiting alcohol consumption. How anyone could stand the smell Ryoma didn’t know.
Ryoma walked up to the bartender. It was a young man about his age, maybe older, with brown, scruffy hair and hazel eyes. He was cleaning a mug with a rag. When Ryoma approached the counter, the bartender looked up and eyed the European-looking outfit that Ryoma was wearing. “From the manager of Dreamer?” he asked gruffly his eyes traveling down to the parcel in Ryoma’s hands.
“Yeah,” was Ryoma’s short reply before dumping the parcel on the counter.
The bartender took one look at the parcel and growled, “Aniki.”
“Aniki?” Ryoma asked with a devilish smirk. “Oh, so you’re Fuji’s brother, Yuuta, huh?”
“Yes,” was the gruff reply.
“Your brother holds you in high regard, you know,” Ryoma stated crossing his arms. “That parcel is another raspberry pie, isn’t it? Fuji said you love those.”
The scruffy-haired bartender blushed and turned away. “Shut up.” That ended the conversation.
Ryoma was about to leave Fleur Exotique when the lights began to dim. The audience began to applaud as a male dancer walked gracefully on stage. His small frame was clothed in a tight, black shirt that revealed his midriff and black dance pants. His stomach showed two belly piercings filled with silver studs, which shone off the lights. Long, black locks of hair framed a childish face and bright eyes. One could easily mistake him for a beautiful girl, except for the absence of breasts.
“Oh, it’s Ame again,” Yuuta remarked blankly as he prepared another drink.
Ryoma turned around. “Ame?” he asked. “That’s not a name.”
“That’s just his dancer name,” Yuuta explained. “Here at Fleur Exotique, all the dancers take on dancer names to prevent stalkers. His real name I don’t know. This one’s a new dancer, arrived only two months ago. He’s a ballet dancer that had formal training in America.”
“But I thought that only exotic dancers were hired here.”
“No, any dancer that can perform flexible dances is hired here. In addition to ballet, he also knows belly dancing, a dance that one could consider exotic. This dancer makes good tips after every performance. From what I can count, he gets at least thirty thousand yen after every performance.”
“Sure, I bet he gets fantasized over by his viewers, too,” Ryoma replied frowning at the dancer.
Yuuta thought of that comment as blunt and rude, but he couldn’t deny that there was some truth in what Ryoma said. Every night, his viewers, especially the ones that threw one thousand yen bills on the stage, got this look in their eyes that showed they were fantasizing Ame beneath them making love to them. It was vulgar, but it was the truth. Ame performed some of the slowest, yet exotic dances amongst all the dancers at Fleur Exotique making him a favorite. It was a wonder none of the regular viewers haven’t tried anything yet.
Ame began to perform a slow dance as the exotic music of Desert Rose began to play. His small body began to move with the rhythm incorporating the flexibility of ballet and the hip movements of belly dance. Ryoma found himself staring, something that he didn’t like the feel of. Still, he had to admit, the boy was talented. The way his body moved fitted the mood of the song.
I dream of fire
Those dreams that tie two hearts that will never die
And near the flames
The shadows play in the shape of the mans desire
As the dancer began to move his abdomen faster with the rhythm, Ryoma managed to get a good look at the audience. As he had expected earlier, the men in the audience were getting a look in their eyes that screamed, “I want him.” The guitarist frowned. No one here had any integrity. Ame looked to be about his age and he was being fantasized over by old men.
The song ended and the audience applauded. Bills of money were tossed on stage as Ame bowed. The dancer took another bow before bending down to collect the bills strewn about the stage. Ryoma was spared on last look at the dancer before Ame exited the stage.
-X-
“That must have been an unbelievable performance,” a dancer commented as he looked at the amount of bills that Ame had collected from tonight’s performance. “I wish I were as lucky as you are. I try so hard to please the crowd, but all I get is a measly one thousand yen.”
Ame remained silent as his fellow dancer continued to rant about wanting to have larger tips. He prefers not to talk giving the impression that he was mute. The dancer knew that if he started talking, he would continue talking, and his secrets might slip out of his mouth. No one could know that he was a runaway or he would have to go back there. He wouldn’t go back there no matter what.
The dancer ran a finger over his belly piercings. He remembered the day he got them. It was a birthday gift. During the process, he was clutching a comforting hand tightly. The actual piercing didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would, but it bled. He endured it for a few hours before he went to find some painkillers. Those were the good times, before the incident occurred. After that, everything fell apart.
This desert rose
Whose shadow bears the secret promise
This desert flower
No sweet perfume that would torture you more than this
Ame liked the song, Desert Rose. It was meant to be an erotic song, but he saw it as a reflection of what he use to have before it was taken away in one crushing blow. After the incident happened, he ran away and lied about his age to get a job at Fleur Exotique. It was a degrading job, but it was nothing compared to what he had experienced before.
-X-
It was only until after the performance was over did Ryoma realize that he had to get back to Dreamer. He was still on duty and any slacking off on duty could result in this month’s income reduced. Nodding a good-bye to Yuuta, the guitarist maneuvered around the smelly customers and out into the streets. He breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, he could breathe fresh air again.
Ryoma walked up the steps that lead to the street that took him back to Dreamer. He was tired from playing three times today and from the sight of seeing Ame. The guitarist considered asking Fuji to finish work early. Fuji would understand. It wouldn’t make a difference in his work hours anyway since he lived in the bedrooms upstairs of the nightclub. It was the only accommodations that he could find. He had considered surveying the area for an apartment or a studio, but he was working full-time at Dreamer performing three times a day, and even on his day off, he was too tired to go searching.
The guitarist turned a corner when he heard a scream. His senses perked up. Someone was in trouble. Ryoma’s instincts told him that it was another pimp attempting to drag off a reluctant teenager. He knew better than to get involved in something like this, but his instincts told him to go towards the sound of the scream. He took off in a run back up the street dodging past passing people. The street was noisy, but all of Ryoma’s focus was on the source of the scream.
He heard the scream get even louder and began to run faster his heart pumping from the anticipation. The guitarist turned a corner and skidded to a halt at an alley. As he expected, a pimp was trying to force a defenseless teenager into prostitution, but it wasn’t a girl. It was that dancer from Fleur Exotique. The poor boy was backed into a corner his eyes shut in fear. His body was shivering as a large man thrust his face against his cheek.
Then Ryoma did something so girly, he was embarrassed when he recalled it later. He walked over to the pimp and promptly kicked him where it hurts. The pimp jumped back in pain. Ryoma quickly grabbed Ame by the wrist and started running away. He could have fought back if he wanted to, but he didn’t want to start a brawl and get in trouble with the police. The two of them kept running until Ryoma was sure that the pimp stopped chasing them. They stopped at a crosswalk and the guitarist let go of the dancer’s arm.
“Ah! I’m sorry!” Ame cried bowing deeply. “I’m sorry for putting you through this!”
Ryoma raised an eyebrow in confusion. “There’s nothing to apologize for,” he stated shrugging his shoulders. “It was that pervert’s fault.”
Ame looked up. It was then Ryoma managed to get a good look at the dancer. Ame was dressed in casual clothes with no make-up on and had a green headband adorned on his head, which had fallen in his face when he bowed. A plain, white shirt and shorts covered his two belly piercings. In his hands were grocery bags. At a first glance, he looked like a high school student going home instead of a ballet and belly dancer.
Ame looked at Ryoma’s uniform with wide, brown eyes. “Are you that guitarist at Dreamer?” he asked.
“Echizen Ryoma,” Ryoma replied.
“I’ve seen you before!” the dancer said excitedly. “I went there before and heard you play! You play really good! I wish I could play guitar.”
Ryoma was caught off-guard when Ame started acting like a fan boy who saw his idol. Sure, he had regular viewers like Ame did at Fleur Exotique, but none of them were like Ame. They came for the music.
Deciding to try save face, Ryoma changed the topic, “Will you be okay going home?”
“Yes, it’s not far from here,” Ame replied.
“All right, see you later,” Ryoma said and left Ame at the crosswalk. When he was about to leave, he suddenly remembered something that he wanted to ask the dancer, “Oh, by the way, what’s your real name?”
Ame hesitated for a moment before saying his name with a huge smile, “Dan Taichi desu!”
TBC…
Vocabulary:
Ame- rain (Japanese)
Fleur Exotique- Exotic flower (French)
Lyrics Disclaimers:
Echizen Ryoma (Minagawa Junko)- Futari (translated)
Shirota Yuu (as Mamoru in Seramyu)- Kaze no Shijin (translated)
Sting- Desert Rose
None of these songs belong to me and lyrics translations were found on various websites.
Pairing: Echizen Ryoma/Dan Taichi
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine
Chapter 1- Fleur Exotique
He slowly plucked the strings in a rhythmic beat creating a low, soothing sound. Calloused fingers gracefully moved over the neck of a guitar changing the pitches of the sound. The lights were low to add to the mood. In front of him, all eyes were on him as he began to sing a song about unrequited love. His voice was smooth and had perfect pitch fitting the soft guitar melody. Not a sound was made, except for the beautiful guitar music and the voice that accompanied it.
As if cradling the two of us
He strummed the last note on his guitar and bowed as the audience began to applaud. He exited stage left with his guitar as the stage manager came to take his chair. The young man placed his guitar in its case and zipped it up. He sighed in relief; another day at work done. The income wasn’t much, but it kept him going. Besides, in a nightclub like Dreamer, he could have more freedom than a recording artist.
When he was sixteen, he, Echizen Ryoma, ran away from home. He left his home in central Tokyo with only the clothes on his back, his guitar, and a few necessities. He wandered around Tokyo sticking to large crowds, especially during school hours, for days living off of whatever he could scavenge to eat. He finally found a sign asking for freelance performers to perform at Dreamer, a nightclub with a suitable reputation. He used a Social Security card he borrowed to get an audition. He was scheduled to perform on a Friday.
During the performance, his fingers shook from lack of nutrition and exhaustion. Some of the notes even came out sour. His singing was flat and hoarse from sleeping at train stations every cold night. To him, the audition was a failure, but the audience didn’t seem to notice and applauded loudly. The manager was pleased with the reaction the audience had and hired him on the spot. Now, at age seventeen, he worked at Dreamer six days a week five hours a day either performing onstage or serving drinks to customers.
Unlike its less reputable counterparts, Dreamer actually followed the laws about alcoholism; customers had to show their I.D. to get in, only a certain amount of alcohol could be consumed, and any underage kid that tried to sneak in was quickly caught by the policeman on watch. On top of that, anything to do with sex was left out. Many people, especially teenagers, were turned off by those regulations. They prefer hanging out where alcohol could be consumed forever and anything erotic was legal. Despite those regulations, it still had a good flow of customers. Many of the customers were people were here only for a quick drink to celebrate something special and for a nice, clean place to relax.
The young man adjusted his tie and tied on his apron before going out into the nightclub to serve drinks. As he went about the tables placing down bottles of wine, beer, and the occasional soda, people praised him for his beautiful performance and dropped coins and bills into the pocket of his apron. He only nodded in gratitude to those remarks. He collected the empty glasses and bottles at an empty table before grabbing a rag and wiping down the table. The young man carried the tray of empty glasses and bottles over to the bartender who was cleaning an empty glass.
“Oh, hi Echizen,” the bartender greeted warmly.
“Hi Oishi,” replied Ryoma placing the tray on the counter.
“That was a beautiful performance.”
“Work is work.”
Oishi Shuuichirou was the kind of person that would lend an open ear and a comforting shoulder. His soft-edged face, soft, green eyes, and his short haircut gave him a look of sincerity. One could look at his smile and get a feeling that everything was going to be all right. He only worked at Dreamer part-time since he was still in school. He was a college freshman who was studying to be a doctor. Although at first he wasn’t suppose to be working here since he was still underage, he managed to get the job because of a family situation that he never talked about. Ryoma never wondered what it was; he, too, prefer not talking about his past.
Ryoma heard the soft plucks of a guitar and turned to see another performer on stage. Wild, brown hair framed an angular face accompanied with brown eyes behind a pair of glasses giving off an aura of authority and control. This performer, Tezuka Kunimitsu, was a far better player than Ryoma was. Unlike Ryoma, who learned through a book, Tezuka had formal training. The older guitarist began singing a simple, but soothing song.
But the sea knows
Without the wind, the rain cannot fall
But people knows
Without you, the birds cannot fly
The last strum was made and Tezuka stood up to accept the applause. He took a short bow before exiting stage left. Ryoma clapped a few times before going back to serving drinks to customers. He didn’t care much for competition. He was doing this job to earn money, not to try attracting a recording company.
Tezuka, on the other hand, was serious about his career as a guitarist. He was only here to get used to the music production. Everyone knew that he was going to be a musician for a J-pop band soon. According to Oishi, who was an old friend of Tezuka, however, the beautiful guitarist wasn’t interested in becoming a professional musician yet. He prefers to take things slow. Besides, he didn’t like music producers.
“Echizen, can you do me a favor?” a feminine voice asked.
The young man turned around to see the nightclub manager, Fuji Shuusuke. Fuji could easily be mistaken for a woman with his shiny light brown hair and his smile. He normally kept his eyes closed, but when he opened his eyes, two cerulean orbs shown. He was a nice manager, but no one got on his bad side. He could be scary when he’s angry.
“What is it?” Ryoma asked.
“Can you deliver this to the bartender at Fleur Exotique?” the feminine man asked placing a small parcel in Ryoma’s arms.
The young guitarist gave the manager a frown. “No,” he replied. “I don’t like gay clubs.”
“Echizen, that place isn’t gay,” Oishi stated. “Some of the dancers there are just male, that’s all. Come on, Echizen, it won’t be that bad as long as you refuse any drugs.”
Ryoma let a frown ruffle his features making him look like a child pouting. There was no point in arguing once Oishi got involved. “Fine,” he said throwing off his apron before marching out of the nightclub and into the street.
Ryoma had been to Fleur Exotique once. It was less strict on regulations than Dreamer, so he knew that drugs flowed in and out of that place. Fleur Exotique also hired dancers only. The night that Ryoma went there to run an errand, a dancer was up on stage performing an exotic dance that was so erotic, it made his nose bleed. He never went near that place again.
The young guitarist saw Fleur Exotique ahead. The sign was glowing amongst the other signs on the street. Ryoma took a deep breath and pushed the door open. He was hit with a heavy stench of alcohol and cigarettes forcing his nose into his sleeve. Unlike Dreamer, Fleur Exotique had no regulations on how much alcohol one could consume. The more a customer paid, the better. In this club, no one gave a damn if there was a law limiting alcohol consumption. How anyone could stand the smell Ryoma didn’t know.
Ryoma walked up to the bartender. It was a young man about his age, maybe older, with brown, scruffy hair and hazel eyes. He was cleaning a mug with a rag. When Ryoma approached the counter, the bartender looked up and eyed the European-looking outfit that Ryoma was wearing. “From the manager of Dreamer?” he asked gruffly his eyes traveling down to the parcel in Ryoma’s hands.
“Yeah,” was Ryoma’s short reply before dumping the parcel on the counter.
The bartender took one look at the parcel and growled, “Aniki.”
“Aniki?” Ryoma asked with a devilish smirk. “Oh, so you’re Fuji’s brother, Yuuta, huh?”
“Yes,” was the gruff reply.
“Your brother holds you in high regard, you know,” Ryoma stated crossing his arms. “That parcel is another raspberry pie, isn’t it? Fuji said you love those.”
The scruffy-haired bartender blushed and turned away. “Shut up.” That ended the conversation.
Ryoma was about to leave Fleur Exotique when the lights began to dim. The audience began to applaud as a male dancer walked gracefully on stage. His small frame was clothed in a tight, black shirt that revealed his midriff and black dance pants. His stomach showed two belly piercings filled with silver studs, which shone off the lights. Long, black locks of hair framed a childish face and bright eyes. One could easily mistake him for a beautiful girl, except for the absence of breasts.
“Oh, it’s Ame again,” Yuuta remarked blankly as he prepared another drink.
Ryoma turned around. “Ame?” he asked. “That’s not a name.”
“That’s just his dancer name,” Yuuta explained. “Here at Fleur Exotique, all the dancers take on dancer names to prevent stalkers. His real name I don’t know. This one’s a new dancer, arrived only two months ago. He’s a ballet dancer that had formal training in America.”
“But I thought that only exotic dancers were hired here.”
“No, any dancer that can perform flexible dances is hired here. In addition to ballet, he also knows belly dancing, a dance that one could consider exotic. This dancer makes good tips after every performance. From what I can count, he gets at least thirty thousand yen after every performance.”
“Sure, I bet he gets fantasized over by his viewers, too,” Ryoma replied frowning at the dancer.
Yuuta thought of that comment as blunt and rude, but he couldn’t deny that there was some truth in what Ryoma said. Every night, his viewers, especially the ones that threw one thousand yen bills on the stage, got this look in their eyes that showed they were fantasizing Ame beneath them making love to them. It was vulgar, but it was the truth. Ame performed some of the slowest, yet exotic dances amongst all the dancers at Fleur Exotique making him a favorite. It was a wonder none of the regular viewers haven’t tried anything yet.
Ame began to perform a slow dance as the exotic music of Desert Rose began to play. His small body began to move with the rhythm incorporating the flexibility of ballet and the hip movements of belly dance. Ryoma found himself staring, something that he didn’t like the feel of. Still, he had to admit, the boy was talented. The way his body moved fitted the mood of the song.
I dream of fire
Those dreams that tie two hearts that will never die
And near the flames
The shadows play in the shape of the mans desire
As the dancer began to move his abdomen faster with the rhythm, Ryoma managed to get a good look at the audience. As he had expected earlier, the men in the audience were getting a look in their eyes that screamed, “I want him.” The guitarist frowned. No one here had any integrity. Ame looked to be about his age and he was being fantasized over by old men.
The song ended and the audience applauded. Bills of money were tossed on stage as Ame bowed. The dancer took another bow before bending down to collect the bills strewn about the stage. Ryoma was spared on last look at the dancer before Ame exited the stage.
-X-
“That must have been an unbelievable performance,” a dancer commented as he looked at the amount of bills that Ame had collected from tonight’s performance. “I wish I were as lucky as you are. I try so hard to please the crowd, but all I get is a measly one thousand yen.”
Ame remained silent as his fellow dancer continued to rant about wanting to have larger tips. He prefers not to talk giving the impression that he was mute. The dancer knew that if he started talking, he would continue talking, and his secrets might slip out of his mouth. No one could know that he was a runaway or he would have to go back there. He wouldn’t go back there no matter what.
The dancer ran a finger over his belly piercings. He remembered the day he got them. It was a birthday gift. During the process, he was clutching a comforting hand tightly. The actual piercing didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would, but it bled. He endured it for a few hours before he went to find some painkillers. Those were the good times, before the incident occurred. After that, everything fell apart.
This desert rose
Whose shadow bears the secret promise
This desert flower
No sweet perfume that would torture you more than this
Ame liked the song, Desert Rose. It was meant to be an erotic song, but he saw it as a reflection of what he use to have before it was taken away in one crushing blow. After the incident happened, he ran away and lied about his age to get a job at Fleur Exotique. It was a degrading job, but it was nothing compared to what he had experienced before.
-X-
It was only until after the performance was over did Ryoma realize that he had to get back to Dreamer. He was still on duty and any slacking off on duty could result in this month’s income reduced. Nodding a good-bye to Yuuta, the guitarist maneuvered around the smelly customers and out into the streets. He breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, he could breathe fresh air again.
Ryoma walked up the steps that lead to the street that took him back to Dreamer. He was tired from playing three times today and from the sight of seeing Ame. The guitarist considered asking Fuji to finish work early. Fuji would understand. It wouldn’t make a difference in his work hours anyway since he lived in the bedrooms upstairs of the nightclub. It was the only accommodations that he could find. He had considered surveying the area for an apartment or a studio, but he was working full-time at Dreamer performing three times a day, and even on his day off, he was too tired to go searching.
The guitarist turned a corner when he heard a scream. His senses perked up. Someone was in trouble. Ryoma’s instincts told him that it was another pimp attempting to drag off a reluctant teenager. He knew better than to get involved in something like this, but his instincts told him to go towards the sound of the scream. He took off in a run back up the street dodging past passing people. The street was noisy, but all of Ryoma’s focus was on the source of the scream.
He heard the scream get even louder and began to run faster his heart pumping from the anticipation. The guitarist turned a corner and skidded to a halt at an alley. As he expected, a pimp was trying to force a defenseless teenager into prostitution, but it wasn’t a girl. It was that dancer from Fleur Exotique. The poor boy was backed into a corner his eyes shut in fear. His body was shivering as a large man thrust his face against his cheek.
Then Ryoma did something so girly, he was embarrassed when he recalled it later. He walked over to the pimp and promptly kicked him where it hurts. The pimp jumped back in pain. Ryoma quickly grabbed Ame by the wrist and started running away. He could have fought back if he wanted to, but he didn’t want to start a brawl and get in trouble with the police. The two of them kept running until Ryoma was sure that the pimp stopped chasing them. They stopped at a crosswalk and the guitarist let go of the dancer’s arm.
“Ah! I’m sorry!” Ame cried bowing deeply. “I’m sorry for putting you through this!”
Ryoma raised an eyebrow in confusion. “There’s nothing to apologize for,” he stated shrugging his shoulders. “It was that pervert’s fault.”
Ame looked up. It was then Ryoma managed to get a good look at the dancer. Ame was dressed in casual clothes with no make-up on and had a green headband adorned on his head, which had fallen in his face when he bowed. A plain, white shirt and shorts covered his two belly piercings. In his hands were grocery bags. At a first glance, he looked like a high school student going home instead of a ballet and belly dancer.
Ame looked at Ryoma’s uniform with wide, brown eyes. “Are you that guitarist at Dreamer?” he asked.
“Echizen Ryoma,” Ryoma replied.
“I’ve seen you before!” the dancer said excitedly. “I went there before and heard you play! You play really good! I wish I could play guitar.”
Ryoma was caught off-guard when Ame started acting like a fan boy who saw his idol. Sure, he had regular viewers like Ame did at Fleur Exotique, but none of them were like Ame. They came for the music.
Deciding to try save face, Ryoma changed the topic, “Will you be okay going home?”
“Yes, it’s not far from here,” Ame replied.
“All right, see you later,” Ryoma said and left Ame at the crosswalk. When he was about to leave, he suddenly remembered something that he wanted to ask the dancer, “Oh, by the way, what’s your real name?”
Ame hesitated for a moment before saying his name with a huge smile, “Dan Taichi desu!”
TBC…
Vocabulary:
Ame- rain (Japanese)
Fleur Exotique- Exotic flower (French)
Lyrics Disclaimers:
Echizen Ryoma (Minagawa Junko)- Futari (translated)
Shirota Yuu (as Mamoru in Seramyu)- Kaze no Shijin (translated)
Sting- Desert Rose
None of these songs belong to me and lyrics translations were found on various websites.