Wednesday, October 18, 2006

If You Love Me Like Music 1
Touru Ootohri.

Until that very day, Keigo Akamaru didn’t know how much that name would mean to him. He sat in solitude backstage, as his bandmates and best friends Ken and Kyou got their instruments out of the car. The two insane men were very superstitious, and believed it bad luck to store instruments backstage before a show. Whenever they’d start on that superstition bullshit, Keigo usually just tuned them out.

He stood and walked toward the black curtain, parting it with his clean, uncalloused hands and peered out into the audience. His band, Darkwave, attracted all types. From where he stood, Keigo could see a girl in all pink with neon magenta hair standing next to a girl with pitch-black hair and a cross on her forehead. Yeah, Darkwave attracted all kinds. Everything under the sun in Harajuku.

Suddenly, Keigo noticed a different sort of face in the crowd. This one wa small, pale, and delicate. Riddled with scars and bruises, mostly covered up by thick makeup. It was the face of a beautiful young girl, about thirteen or fourteen-looking. She wore a PVC corset, tight velvet-looking pants, and spiked armbands, plus a collar with a silver bell that made no noise as far as Keigo could hear. It seemed like the club had grown unnaturally quiet as the girl stared at him with those clear blue eyes, like fresh water flowing into an empty river.

Keigo sensed motion behind him. He turned to see Kyou looking at him with a stern expression.

“Now, Keigo-san.” he stated clearly. “You know very well that peeking at the audience before a show is bad luck. What were you thinking?”

“That.... I was bored?” Keigo replied, putting Kyou on the spot. “I can’t stand any more of your friggin’ superstitions, man.”

“Hey, whatever!” Ken soothed, slinging his guitar over his shoulder. Ken was Kyou’s twin brother, but they looked nothing alike. Ken’s hair was pitch black, and very long, tied into a ponytail but spiked up at the top. His style was simple and elegant, like the silk black shirt and deep blue jeans he was wearing. Kyou, on the other hand, was much more extravigant, in his black tank top, spiked collar, and tight, destroyed jeans that showed thigh and ankle galore. His bright red locks were sticking up in odd angles as usual, his grey eyes rimmed with the lightest black eyeshadow.

“You’re the one freaking out, Keigo-kun. Are you okay?”

Keigo didn’t know the answer to that. He wasn’t feeling his usual, chipper self; not since he’d seen the girl. And her blue eyes were still haunting him. He shook his head and grabbed his headset and guitar. “Let’s do this thing.”

Ken and Kyou nodded. They parted the stage curtain from either side, revealing Keigo first. The youn singer stepped out onstage, shortly followed by Kyou and Ken. Ken stood poised, bass in hand, and Kyou sat at the keyboard, fingers ready. Keigo stepped up to the front of the stage.

“Hello, ladies and germs!” he screamed, raising his hands in the air. He was met with several yells and cheers of apparent approval. “Okay, so I hope you’re all having fun this weekend! We’ve worked really hard on this set, so we’re praying you people are going to like it....” Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl plunge to the floor in a dead faint. He panicked and pondered over what to do. He trid to speak more, but all that came out was a stutter. Ken and Kyou looked at him questioningly.

Decisively, Keigo leaped off the stage, gathering the girl in his arms and darting out the door, a thousand screaming goths and punks streaming behind him.
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