Visual Kei

Every movement hurt. I could hardly move my arms and my legs weren’t much better. Seheon and Ray were both sitting in my room, Seheon offering me a banana. I pushed his hand away, wincing at the tautness of my triceps. He smiled wryly as I whined about my muscles hurting.

“What makes you think I’m going to accept something of that shape from you?”

“A guy’s gotta try,” he replied with a chuckle. “Besides, the potassium will make your muscles hurt less.” He pointed a thumb at himself. “Coming from experience, of course.”

“Whatever,” I said, swiping the banana from his hand. I ripped off a piece with my fingers and ate it.

He made a face. “That’s not how you’re supposed to eat it!”

“Sorry I don’t eat to your standards.” I ripped off another piece. “Why are you guys crowding into my room, anyway? I just got done with training. Besides, it’s only noon, what makes you think this is okay?”

“Only?” Ray asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Got a problem, Blondie?” He shook his head with a little smile playing on his lips. “Unless you guys came in here to give me a full-body massage, you can kindly get the hell out. Thanks for the banana, H. But seriously, the rejection applies to you, too.” I tossed the banana peel into the trash can by my bed.

Seheon’s eyes lit up, and he began to roll back his sleeves, giggling with glee. “Are you serious?” I could almost see the nosebleed now.

“On second thought… why don’t you just leave?” I said, settling into the mound of pillows.

“We’ve been given another assignment that comes before your rest,” Seheon said, pouting and handing me an official-looking folder. I opened it as he spoke. A photograph fell out and I stared at it in shock. “Seems we’re going to brush shoulders with someone a little more famous, this time.”

*******************************************************************************

As we flew down the highway to the Kyoto province, I shot a glare at Seheon. He smiled back innocently from under his black helmet. My helmet, like the rest of my clothing, was light pink and white and had two long, skinny trails whipping out behind it. And, like the rest of my clothing, had ridiculously-large heart shaped decals on it. I really hated Seheon at that moment. Instead of flipping him the bird, I hugged myself closer to Ray, leeching some warmth from his body. Why did I always get stuck with the ridiculous outfits? And who decided that it was okay to put a secret agent of sorts in a frilly dress with heart-shaped accents?

Even at the concert, I felt out of place. Otaku were everywhere, and the occasional attractive person, but for the most part, otaku and psychotic cosplayers lined the auditorium. I wasn’t the only person dressed in Lolita, but I was one of the few females. The concert was great, with perfect lighting, energetic performance, and perfect lineup of songs. The artist even had a special guest, to make things more interesting. After the concert was over, Seheon led Ray and me through what remained of the audience toward a room beside the stage. Two tall buff guys took tickets from Seheon’s hands and led us up a flight of stairs.

We went backstage.

With each step up, it got colder and colder and the muscles in my thighs screamed loudly. I thought heat rose, but so far, this was disproving my theory. I shivered in the stupid frilly Sweet Lolita dress. If it could even be considered that. I looked back and caught one of the guards and Seheon both staring up at my frilly backside. I scowled, hissed, and turned my shoulder-bag around so that it covered my skirts. Seheon sighed in mock disappointment, then laughed, tugging gently on one of my long pigtails.

“You can’t be mad forever, Sunshine.”

“And why not?” I demanded, glaring.

“You’re wearing sweet Lolita. I’ve never seen an angry sweet Lolita.”

“You’re looking at one, H.” But as soon as I turned around, I proved him right.

I had never been backstage at a concert before. How was I supposed to act? Was I expected to do something special for it? Should I have brought something to be signed? I fidgeted as we were held in front of the final door. I could hear the musician speaking through it. Nervousness caused me to blush and shift awkwardly. We were here for something, but that didn’t mean I could overlook my more human side. Did everyone feel like that before meeting someone famous?

Moments later, one of the buff guys opened the door and we stepped inside. Strobe lights were dancing on the otherwise dark walls of the poorly-lit room. A black light swung overhead. On the one couch in the room, the guest, DJ Muro, was sitting. In the middle of the room, playing Dance Dance Revolution, was Miyavi.

When the door squeaked open, he stopped the song and smiled hugely, waving. “Hyyyyya! Miyavi desu!” Without warning, he sprinted up to us, stopping right in front of me, nearly hitting me in the process. “Ah~ you have bring me pretty girl!” he exclaimed in English, pressing the heart-shaped clasp at my collarbone as if expecting it to do something. I just looked at him, already wide-eyed at his hyperactivity. “Kawaii!”

To any normal person, Miyavi just looked like an eccentric human. His bright, rainbow-colored hair was standing up chaotically, spiked and blown off to the side a bit. A pair of cyber-goth goggles sat on his head and he wore a plain white tank top that displayed his many tattoos. His gloves were of mismatching color, and he wore bright pink skinny jeans almost tight enough to be considered spandex. Piercings accentuated his facial features. What marked him as inhuman were his eyes. Although they were brown, and seemed normal enough, when the black light flashed on them, they reflected a bright, fluorescent blue. When normal light hit them, they looked greenish, like cat eyes in the dark.

“Miyavi, I never thought I would meet you!” I said in flawless Japanese (the time I spent with Living Forgery had perfected it). His eyes lit up and he giggled, doing a strange little dance.

“If I had known you spoke Japanese, I would have talked to you first!” He sighed, twirling around and landing on the couch beside DJ Muro. “I think I am in love!”

“Jailbait,” DJ Muro said.

“Was it that obvious?” I blushed.

“No, but in my experience, not being able to tell age can get you in trouble.” Miyavi and he both laughed. “Are we going to party or what? Although, I wish you would have brought some of your kawaii friends rather than these ah… ameko.”

I looked back at Seheon and Ray, giggling. “They aren’t yanki-jin, but they still aren’t very kawaii, are they? Especially that one.” I pointed at Seheon. Miyavi snickered.

“Definitely not.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but we’re here for a reason. We’ve got to talk to you about something,” Seheon said suddenly in English, disturbing our innocent fun. “We represent The Oni.”

At that, both men sobered up and looked perhaps a bit fearful. Miyavi’s eyes wandered to me and he looked as if he had been betrayed. I flushed with shame. I had expected him to know why we were here, but his open kindness made it hard to bring the subject up. If I hadn’t been with the two men, I doubt I would have carried out the mission successfully.

“He wants to meet you,” Seheon continued. “Please, arrange a time to meet us at this address.” He handed over a card. “If you do not show, we will assume you’re hostile, and you may have an accident in the near future. We hope you will cooperate.”

“What does he want to meet me about?” Miyavi asked me in Japanese.

I looked over at the guys before answering. Miyavi didn’t seem all that dangerous, and he was much more… normal than anyone else I’d met. I was willing to take a chance. “He thinks you have gotten too famous, and he will ask you to stop making music.” Before he could show them that I had told him the truth, I continued. “If I were you, I would meet with him. He will let you go when he has finished threatening you.”

“I see,” he said, looking away, resigned. “If it is my music or my life, I suppose life comes first. I have already made so much music, my fans should be happy.”

“That is a good idea.”

“What personal grudge does he have with me? I know that I am not human, but my fans don’t!”

“The preternatural are allowed to be famous, but too much attention is sure to bring questions. It is what he believes is best.”

“Do you believe it?” he asked, turning his curious eyes on me.

I looked him in the eye for a moment, at his strange irises that were the only thing marking him as different than humans. Then I looked away. “Meet us at the address. Please, do not be late.”

Before we turned and left, Miyavi offered his arms out to hug me. I accepted. As we touched, he spoke to me telepathically. His body was very warm.

Thank you for your confidence in me.

Don’t worry about it.

I know about Kiiro. I’m sorry about what happened to him.

What do you mean? How do you know about him?

Mutual friends. If you ever need my help, Umi will know where to find me.

Although it had all passed within seconds, I stepped back quickly so that Ray and Seheon would not get too suspicious. We smiled to each other and I followed the two men down the winding stairs.