Chapter Text
Under the fluorescent lights of the dressing room, the pills are warm in his hands. They’re small, like they’d roll out of his fingers the moment he loosens his grip. It’s a familiar weight. They’re not there to help him in the long run. But they’re there, and that’s what Shuuzo needs for tonight. A reprieve.
His hands jitter a little when he puts them in his mouth, knocks them back with a swallow of Venicillin’s premium “Too Tasty Water”. The quality of it hardly registers because the pills are bitter enough that the taste turns the entirety of his mouth dry. But he’s used to it. Both are the best that money can buy, after all, and he won’t get anything better than this.
The twins are engaged, talking to each other, so they don’t notice him too much. They’re arguing about something or the other; even though he regularly tells them that the visits to his personal physician are to maintain his health, it’s a bit bittersweet that they’ve never tried harder, questioned further.
But Shuuzo knows that he can never, ever tell anyone about it, else it’d destroy the image he worked so hard to create: the image of a shining galactic prince, chivalrous and gallant. They are not allowed to know that the white horse he rides on is made up of stacks of pharmacy prescriptions, that the saddle is made from plastic and aluminium medicine wrappers. They must not know.
That is why Shuuzo smiles, throws the twins a wink, and in an airy voice, says, “It’s showtime!”
-
In the morning, Shuuzo had been late for rehearsal for the concert that would take place later that night. It didn’t matter that much, really, with the amount that he had practiced each song, but it was still nice to know that the twins had cared.
The doctor’s office is pristine, each chrome surface gleaming. It’s a wonder that it can stay so clean all the time, and Shuuzo admires it, but only for that. It doesn’t have the warmth that their dressing room does. Riku makes every surface shine with it, polishes it with love. There is no lasting impression in place here. Each meeting blurs into the next. Shuuzo will never have anything but disdain for the stainless steel that decorates this office.
“Just lay it down to me, I can take it. Straightforwardly☆, if you will.”
The crinkles around Shuuzo’s eyes are deep, concealed by his long lashes. They’re laughter lines, born from when Shuuzo has smiled too hard, for too long. It’s a natural consequence of the job. The eyebags, too. Although they wouldn’t have needed so much concealer to cover them, been so pronounced, if Shuuzo had been normal. But then again, being normal was never what he’d wanted to be, right?
His doctor peers at him from behind his spectacles. “You’ve been overworking yourself, as always. In your condition, that’s not the best thing to be doing, you know.”
Shuuzo’s eyes narrow, but his smile remains wide. “I know.” But he’s doing this for the fans, as much as he’s doing it for himself. They still hold Trichronika in high regard, and it won’t be him that will be disappointing them.
“The scan results, Doctor ☆.” Shuuzo probes.
“... Your heart muscles are weakening rapidly. Did… something traumatic happen? It’s progressing too fast.”
He supposes that getting his melodisian ripped out from his chest that week had taken its toll. Shuuzo gives a noncommittal jerk of his head, a gesture for him to continue talking. He’d hoped for the best, of course, but he’d known from long ago that hope is something that he gives, not something that he keeps.
“At any rate, the way you’re going, the hole will only keep opening up. I would suggest signing up to find a donor now.”
“I’ve already rejected that once before.” Shuuzo cuts in sharply. “Taking time off? The thought itself is ridiculous. Besides, the success rate isn’t optimistic.”
“Then… there’s nothing I can do about it. But you’ll need a stronger dose to continue on your daily activities.” The doctor sighs. “And it might be time for you to start on vasodilators.” He scribbles something out on a pad, rips it out. The ritual has been done enough times that no more instructions need to be given.
As he hands the piece of paper to him, the doctor fixes him with a stern glare. “I still strongly recommend that you-”
“Enough. I’m late for practice.” Shuuzo’s eyes twinkle. “Kai and Riku are waiting for me. I’m sure you have other obligations to uphold as well, don’t you?”
“... Yes.” Shuuzo’s antics are unpredictable, but they are routine. Still, one thing stays the same.
From the very beginning, no one has ever been able to change his mind, once he has set himself in a particular direction.
-
Initially, he hadn’t thought much of his new band. He hadn’t thought much of him at all. It would prick him, in his chest, a different kind of pain from the one that was slowly strangling him. It was a reminder for him. That it was best to leave this all in the past.
He couldn’t help it, though. As much as that sting appeared when he thought about him, it appeared all the more frequently when he didn’t. Maybe it was in the way that he had leaked his presence into every orifice of Shuuzo’s life.
(Maybe it was in the way that Shuuzo had still been unable to let him go. But that was weakness, and no weakness can be tolerated in a galactic prince ruling from the summit.)
In any case, he hates talking about the past.
It’s not as if he does it on purpose. Shuuzo is meticulous about everything. He takes the time to keep himself updated on the various upcoming bands in Judas, go through the messageboards of Trichronika’s fans, research on rivals. So it’s natural that he would come across a new, unpolished boy band, their music and reputation still only roughly hewn. It is for his research that he listens to their songs. The rhythm is fast, passionate.
It’s a beat that he knows, because he’s suffocated from it before.
That night, Shuuzo phones the director of the next concert. “Good evening. The opening for the next concert.”
“Shuuzo-san!” Static disrupted the voice of the speaker, but the tone of surprise was evident.
“You needed a band for the opening, right?” Experience meant nothing if they lacked substance, and being unable to deliver for Trichronika’s show was the epitome. Commitment and hard work was everything, to Shuuzo. It was what had ruled him from the moment that he’d made that promise, that day.
“Y-yes.” She’s obviously harried, voice still thick with sleep. It isn’t even that late, he muses. Shuuzo would have never considered going to bed this early. Midnight is the time that his talks on the radio airs, when the programs with him in are broadcasted. He could hardly have slept during those. He needs to make sure that he is perfect, in all aspects.
“Shingancrimsonz. Banded Rocking Records.”
“S-Sorry?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself ☆.” Shuuzo’s eyes reflect the crescent moon that adorns the black sky outside his window. “Good night.”
“Good night? Shuuzo-san-”
Shuuzo clicks his phone shut.
The sting in his chest. It’s there again.
Shuuzo gropes blindly for one of his pill bottles, unscrews the cap, swallows one dry.
-
They’re bright. Beautiful, he thinks. He’d watched them perform from the television hooked up in the dressing room. The crowd had been whipped into a frenzy, the kind that so far he’s only seen inspired by him and the twins. It stirs something in Shuuzo, something he hasn’t felt for a long while.
He goes all out that night, ignoring the way that his heart beats a little too fast, that his sweat runs a little too much down his neck. The twins do a valiant job of keeping the pace up, and Shuuzo feels exhilaration.
He hasn’t felt this alive in a while.
It will be fine, he thinks. The fans will be fine. Shingancrimsonz will blaze their crimson trail through the sky, even if the galaxy that he’s spread out winks out star by star. Fine, he thinks, but there’s that something that stirs in him. It’s a desire to compete with them, to see which will burn hotter, their red, or Trichronika’s starlight.
After all, Shuuzo is the morning sun, the prince of the galaxies.
(But the heat of a star only reaches its highest when it’s dying.)
-
“The Grateful Rock Festival!” Kai says, thrusting his drumsticks into the air. “Even though we’ve performed at pretty much every major venue, it’s still special, isn’t it?”
They’re going to be there too, Shuuzo thinks absently, as Riku replies, “It’s definitely something that you only see once in a lifetime.”
They’ve been doing well so far. Ever since they’d performed at Shuuzo’s concert, the hits for their name online have skyrocketed, their popularity increasing in spades. Having the reputation of being the first to defeat a dark monster unscathed certainly did nothing to hinder their rise to fame. Shuuzo’s hand unconsciously brings itself up to his chest, wavers there. He’d remembered what it felt like to lose his melodisian, and it had been the second worst thing he’d ever felt.
It was emptiness, so dark and gaping that it’d felt like it would have consumed him whole. He wonders if it is what is waiting for him in the end.
Before that, though. He still needs to see Shingancrimsonz climb higher. They’re going to perform at the Grateful Rock Festival, too. Shuuzo will be able to ascertain it then. Who truly owns the summit of MiDi City.
They’ve already met each other again within the span of a few days, too much all at once, as if fate is trying to make up for the months that they’ve spent without seeing even a glimpse of each other in real life. They’d exchanged blows in the form of words, barbs laced with poison, but Shuuzo has found that the sting in his chest makes him breathe more easily. It hurts, and maybe it’s worth it, because Rom looks him in the eyes now.
“Shuuzo-kun!” Shuuzo’s gaze languidly approaches the excitable fennec, “Ah, but it’s probably normal for you, right? This kind of thing, I’m sure that you’ll be the star of it, Shuuzo-kun,” and Kai meets his gaze with eyes of adoration.
“That’s right, I’m the brilliant morning sun that will outshine everyone else ☆. With your support, of course, Kai, and Riku! So do your best!” his voice sails jauntily.
That’s right. Shuuzo is the sun. He’ll give out as much light as he can to beat out that darkness. Shuuzo smiles at Kai, ruffles his hair. He turns red at Shuuzo’s touch, and Shuuzo ruffles Riku’s hair too, for good measure. Riku puffs up, though, at that, not nearly as pleased as his older brother is. Shuuzo laughs at the sight, eyes softening. He tells them that they are precious to him.
He’s ready for the Grateful Rock Festival.
-
Sunglasses, on. Shuuzo rolls down the limousine window, smile plastered on his face. “Hi, everyone!”
Sunglasses, off. “Please enjoy a brilliantly shining concert today!” He winks at them, revels in the screams of his fans as they paint his ears with their discordant tune. Shuuzo’s so used to doing this that he only notices the girl after a beat.
He’s getting careless.
Ignoring Kai as he gushes about how Plasmagica is the hottest band in MiDi City right now, Shuuzo exchanges pleasantries with her, finishing off with an exuberant “Let’s have fun at the concert together today!”
From the first day he’d met Cyan, he knew she had what it took to reach the top. The only surprising thing about it was how fast her band had shot up the charts, considering how awful the state of the label they’d belonged to was in, if Shuuzo’s judgement of the building they housed themselves in had any weight. He must have severely underestimated her talent.
Something bores into the side of his head as he poses, peace sign held eloquently against his cheek. Rom’s gaze is heavy on him. Shuuzo lowers his hand.
It’s like they’re young again, fresh out of adolescence and ready to take on the world together with nothing but childhood naivety to guide them. Thinking back, communication had always been a staple in their relationship. Even without words, they knew how to read each other.
It was how Rom found out about him keeping secrets.
It was how everything they had, like stitches on an old, patchy ragdoll, came apart at the seams.
Shuuzo looks at him, now, a fire that blazes without him, no one like Shuuzo to hold him back, no one to criticize the way he drums in time to Shuuzo’s songs. It might be ironic that Shuuzo is the one saying it, but the burnished diamond that Shingancrimsonz is now… He wants to see it. He needs to.
Show me your soul for real, Rom.
The indifference on Rom’s face disappears with Shuuzo’s thoughts.
From the way his mouth twists, the way his blue eyes turn volatile, Shuuzo thinks Rom’s saying:
For today's performance, we're seriously out to win, Shuu.
Shuuzo thinks that Rom only smiles when he says his name.
-
When Shuuzo rides down from the high, he thinks that it’s funny, how it should be only now that the world flickers around him, black on white. Their performance is done, and he’d sang a perfect rendition of Kimi to☆Are you Ready?. It had been easy to sing it, really easy, since now he’d meant everything that he’d written. He’s been waiting in that sky for so long, and now that Rom’s ready to fly to him, he’s happy.
He doesn’t mind the flickering so much, because he can take the pills later, and the flickering’s already become something he experiences daily, anyway. It’s only when the world shakes around him that he gets a bit worried. If he faints here, in front of the twins, he’d have some explaining to do. He’ll have to make sure he keeps his consciousness. The realization only dawns as small electric shocks run through his veins, because he’s experienced it once, and suddenly Shuuzo remembers he has to balance his body so that he doesn’t land as an inelegant heap on the ground, before he flashes out of existence and into a dark city made up of gleaming chrome surfaces. He had never wanted to see it again.
“Kai, Riku, get behind me!” The fear that glosses every breath is real, and Shuuzo is scared. There’s nothing funny about how a dark monster circles over them, feral in its screeching, nothing funny about how its yellow eyes pin him as their target. His hand wavers over his chest. His heart is beating too fast. It’s beating too fast, but he can’t stop it. It thrums through his ears, interferes with his breathing.
The only reason he manages to avoid its attack is because he follows the battle with an unrivalled focus, honed from years and years of practice. Nobody else is as lucky. Despair sticks in his throat.
Shuuzo can only watch helplessly as the scene unfolds, like it’s a film. If not for the way the dark monster flaps its gargantuan wings, each massive gust of wind slapping him across the face, he wouldn’t have believed it wasn’t one. He sees, though, that the cat girl is even more helpless than he is, and he knows that this is not how he wants it to end. He doesn’t want to go out like a flame waiting to be snuffed. If he goes out, he’ll do it with a bang. He suddenly burns bright, brighter than he’s ever felt before. His heart beats, arrhythmic.
“Leave it to me!” Shuuzo shouts, and when he strums his guitar, his eyes shine like novas. Bursts of stars shoot out following the note, destroying each bubble the dark monster had trapped the other band members in. Kai and Riku get out safely. They hadn’t had their melodisians removed. They’ll be fine.
“Nice one, Shuu!”
The voice stuns Shuuzo, anchoring him back to reality. His eyes dart up. It’s all he can do to catch Rom giving him a thumbs up, and the complete lack of animosity in the leopard myuumon’s voice somehow lowers his guard. Without thinking, he flashes Rom a peace sign, the exchange of gestures reminiscent of a time from...
… from before.
He imagines that the smile that Rom has on his face was meant to be secret, because Rom tucks his face away before Shuuzo can take a longer look at it.
In the background, Plasmagica sings, and they’re beautiful, too.
He feels a little light.
They all land safely on the floor outside BooDooKan. It takes a while for him to realise it’s over.
Belatedly, he thinks that he shouldn’t have spent so much energy in that one strum, because suddenly he’s swaying and flickering again. It’s enough of a struggle to stay awake. He only barely notices that they’ve stopped celebrating. He can see tendrils of darkness start to wrap around him, watches as a haze of purple obscures the night sky, but he doesn’t do anything about it. He can’t.
He can only wait under the thin membrane. It’s peculiar, what he’s feeling. There’s not much that he’s able to do with his arms and legs restrained as they are. He almost closes his eyes, but that’s not right. He has an inkling that there’s something he still needs to do. He can’t close his eyes yet. So he waits, each second passing becoming a battle, but once Shuuzo has set his mind on something, it becomes notoriously impossible for him to change directions.
It feels like it’s been centuries, but Shuuzo looks up, up to the rays emanating from the roof. He can move his arms and legs now. He’s standing on his own two feet. The light of Grateful King pierces through the night.
That’s the pinnacle, Shuuzo mind sluggishly supplies. That’s where I want to be.
The next few minutes pass by in a blur, and Shuuzo should perhaps be focusing his attention on the dark monster spawned from the CEO of Unicorn Virtual Music himself, but he isn’t. He’s watching the way his own fingers clench and unclench into a fist. That’s good.
He turns up, though, to the pink light in the sky that now rivals what he’d seen from the Grateful King. “That was great, Kitten!” The music’s reviving him.
He watches as the confetti rains down on all of them, but. Again, something bores into the side of his head. It’s not unpleasant, though. Shuuzo almost hesitates before he turns his head. He doesn’t know what to expect.
Rom raises his fist, gives him a thumbs up, and only one side of his lips turn up.
Shuuzo’s smile is open, the peace sign and wink that he returns unbearably happy.
He catches the chuckle that Rom gives, this time, as Plasmagica sings about a nonstop youth, about an endless future.
The thrum of his heartbeat through his ears is louder than ever.