On a bench dyed in twilight
An abandoned doll
If you lose your dreams
Sparkling fingers raised themselves to adjust the headphones upon thin ears beset with jewelry as Sakuma Ryuichi's other hand slid up the metallic pole he was gripping onto, the metro jolting to an earsplitting halt and tossing the man's lithe body back a couple inches. It would have knocked him over if it wasn't for the warm bodies pressed all around him, giving him an estranged sense of being in a mother's womb. His azure eyes glanced out to the train station, now coming into view behind opaque sunglasses as the people from the metro filed out like cream filling oozing out of a Twinkie. He too, flowed with the crowd in its ascent from the underground level to the street level, his body feeling light as it was carried by the warm mass of the crowd, pushing and pulling as a sonorous tune flowed through his headphones perched upon his ears like two dark sentinels keeping the vocalist guarded from real life with their siren song.
I have nowhere to return to
Just wandering through this town
Without being able to become gentle
Without knowing what I believe
The beat that thrummed through his ears was strangely calming as he walked with no purpose out into the crisp air, away from the comfort of the crowd, and down the street, his eyes closed in a blind faith found only in that of a child as he concentrated only on the music. A vivid image of himself shining onstage caught his glance, and he mentally grasped the image like a long-lost treasure. So long ago had he seen that image... he'd lost sight of what Nittle Grasper actually was.
He had thought he knew what he wanted to do -- thought that he'd actually wanted to quit Nittle Grasper and do a solo career in America, thought that he'd really wanted to kill himself in his apartment... but those were only facsimilies of the dream he wanted -- quitting brought him closer to reality, and attempted suicide had brought him closer to fantasy. What he wanted was...
He opened his eyes, and saw Harujuku Square. Images of people cosplaying, people dressing up in the hottest fashion square in Japan, and all of them were silent. In fact, not one of them spoke a word -- the only sound he could hear was the music in his headphones pulsating, and filling his entire being with a thundering bass line, complex guitar riffs, digitally mastered sounds, and a perfectly ethereal voice over it all. The colours of reality in Harujuku Square brightened as if a computer monitor's contrast somewhere had been turned up, and even though he couldn't hear their voices, the only one that really mattered was the one serenading him through the headphones...
This is what he wanted -- the perfect balance of reality and fantasy -- where he could see so clearly, the colours and details of everything, and omit the din of unimportant things like conversations about when celebrity's albums would come out, or who was dating who, with his soul, flowing to a song struck from the strings of the inner heart and the voice of an angel.
The passion I struggled for, the wings I embraced
Take off to the sky...
He would grow wings. His face suddenly shot up to the sky, an untarnished blue expanding across the sky as a girl passed him wearing a Malice Mizer outfit.
He would fly. He would show these people what it was like to see the world but hear it so differently from others... he would grow wings and fly to his long-lost dream of making that come true.
And as he stared up at the sky, taking off his dark sunglasses to stare purely into the vast sheet of blue, he smiled broadly, remembering the way Kaoroku smiled, the way Tohma looked at him, the way Shuichi's picture looked in the hospital, the way K-san's gun sat at his chairside, the way Aizawa Tachi danced Kumagorou across his pillow.
He would, and he could, fly.