Ghost Monk

          Insistent ringing blared through the house early the next morning. The clock next to the bed barely had time to register 5am before a groping hand covered its face, threw it across the room and ensured another entrant into Clock Heaven. Unfortunately for the poor clock the ringing continued, forcing more extreme measures. Within another moment, a thump joined the annoying noise as Shuichi 'conveniently' fell out of bed, followed by Eiri's foot being pulled back under the quilt.
          Sleepy eyes opened, the violet misted over as Shuichi realized where he'd landed. Faint irritation flashed in them a moment later as the singer glared at Eiri before heading to the phone. Ungrateful bastard. In this state, Shuichi had most of the control though he was quickly lulled back to sleep by the 'voice' in his head. By the time the pink-haired man had reached the phone, it was Kitazawa who pushed the pink strands out of his eyes and used Shuichi's vocal chords, "Mmlo?"
          "Hey, Shu. Good morning. What, have a long night again?" Hiro greeted, sounding half asleep himself. In fact, he’d gotten a similar phone call from Suguru Fujisaki, warning them of K’s imminent arrival.
          "Na.. Hiro?" Kitazawa asked, verifying the voice he’d heard around the apartment every so often as he glanced at the still working clock. "It's five am. What's the matter?" Normally, none of the band members ever dared call that early, so there must be something seriously wrong for them to risk waking up a grumpy asshole. An Eiri Uesugi awoken anytime before noon was asking for trouble.
          "You're gonna be picked up early.” Hiro yawned as he scratched his stomach, trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes. “Thought you might want a heads up before K demolished your house again."
          "What?! Why!?" The ex-tutor demanded, sounding extremely freaked out. He had a wary respect for the fellow American who was allowed to carry more firearms than the national guard. “Wait, how’d you know?”
          "Guess Seguchi decided we need the practice for the concert. Fujisaki called from the back of K’s transport, he got kidnapped first. I wonder if he’s tied up again." The guitarist suggested, before pausing to ask, "Don't tell me you forgot about the concert, Shu? You always get hyped up for them..."
          Kitazawa nearly dropped the phone, but managed a weak reply, "H...hai. No, I .. I didn't forget. Okay! Let me get ready." He managed to sound enough like the bubblegum pop star to fool his best friend, at least over the phone. THAT took practice. It was one of the reasons that he was so tired. "See you in a few. Ja!"
          After Hiro had hung up, the ghost knew that he only had a few precious minutes before the psychotic bastard showed up. Scrambling around, he searched for clothes and the things he'd need to get ready while mentally cursing Shuichi for the messy state of his closet. Since these occurrences were nothing out of the ordinary as far as daily mornings went, Eiri remained blissfully unaware. As a writer, he was allowed to sleep as late as he wanted and work whenever he wanted, though he usually procrastinated well into the weeks past the deadline, usually having to pay for such tardiness in missed sleep and more beer for his ulcer. Kitazawa spared a moment to toss a single irritated glare at the younger man for his ability to sleep through a crisis. Granted, only he saw it as a crisis, which didn't help his mood any, but that was besides the point!
          Now forced into the situation himself, he found it a lot less amusing than when he’d been watching the kid going through it. He couldn’t find any since damn thing from boxers to shirts. Kitazawa finally found a stash of clothes of the ‘typical musician at concert’ persuasion and, after staring at them in horror for a minute, vowed to spend the rest of the night hunting down the regular outfits. He’d find them if it took all damn night! They had to be here somewhere!
          “Fucking whore shorts…” the tutor muttered as he tugged on the tight spandex over the slim hips. They fit snugly but they weren’t too constricting and he had to admit that they were comfortable enough, considering the fact that they were basically nothing but scraps of cloth that showed off his ass and crotch.
          “Mm?” Eiri muttered in response to his bitching, shifting in the bed to shove his pillow over his head. “Shut up, brat. I’m sleeping.”
          Frustrated, Kitazawa continued to mutter under his breath as he found a vest and jacket to cover it all up. He finished just in time too, apparently, since he felt the cold muzzle of a gun caress his temple a moment later.
          K’s voice was a soft whisper against his other ear, “Better be ready to go, Shindou-san. I won’t hesitate to fire and drag your bloody carcass out to the car.” It was no idle threat, the gun-toting manager had done it more times than Shuichi could count. His other ‘resident’ wasn’t so used to it.
          Violet eyes widened as the singer’s body twitched involuntarily, a hand clasping the part of his chest where he could’ve sworn a bullet had just ripped through muscle and organs. Gasping for air, he bit back a cry and managed a strangled growl at the blonde American, “What the fuck’s wrong with you, waving a gun at people like that?!” It had almost been enough to force him to lose his hold on the young man’s body. Almost. He could feel Shuichi shifting in the back of his head, which he quickly lulled back to sleep.
          K was giving Shuichi an odd look even as a furious novelist jerked up from the blankets. “Shut the fuck up and get the fuck out!” he shouted. A second later, Kitazawa was hit in the face with a pillow.
          A master at hiding his emotions, Kitazawa recovered quickly and picked up the pillow, frowning over at Eiri, irritated even more at the exhibition of selfish behavior. He tossed the pillow back on the bed before stalking out of the house without giving the customary kiss to his author’s ear. K kept the gun out as he smiled handsomely at Eiri, waving with his free hand, “We’ll see you later, Yuki-san.”
          “Whatever. Leave. Now.” Eiri growled, tossing himself back under a pillow. He’d stayed up most of the night typing out three chapters to make up for the time wasted at the Shrine and was desperate for sleep.
          “Caffeine. Try some.” Closing the door just in time, K heard another pillow hit the solid object. Chuckling, he followed Shuichi’s path to the entryway, where the singer was buckling on the boots that seemed to match the outfit. Watching him put on the special boots, he finally asked, “Are there any problems today that we would need to address before we start work?”
          A single twitch under his eye betrayed the stress level of Shuichi’s current resident. He asked flippantly, “No. Why should there be?”
          Something was definitely up with the singer. No bouncing. No drama queen theatrics. No kiss to Eiri’s ear. He was being sedate and collected as he methodically put his things on. Then again, there was that very odd reaction to the gun he’d held to his head, which had never happened before. Shuichi was usually nervous, trying to talk him out of shooting, or joking and laughing it off. But this time he’d reacted as if he’d really gotten shot.
          Granted, when he was actually shot, Shuichi would bitch him out but he’d never reacted like it’d never happened before. Then there were the clothes. “Let’s make a list, shall we? First, you’re awake AND dressed before I had shoot you. Second, you’re very … quiet. Third, you usually wear normal clothes to the studio, not your concert clothes.”
          Just what Kitazawa needed to hear. Under his breath, he bitched, “Then why the fuck were they at the front of the closet and why can’t I find anything else?!” Stalking to K’s transport, he stopped dead still and stared at the hulk of steel in front of them, afraid to ask but needing to, “K? Why the hell does the Hummer have a CANNON attached to it?!”
          Laughing maniacally, K ruffled Shuichi’s hair and shoved the singer into the vehicle next to a tied-up Suguru Fujisaki. “If we’re lucky, we’ll need to find out today!” Continuing to laugh while praising his baby’s capabilities, K peeled off down the street, causing several other cars to swerve out of the way, heading for Hiro’s house.
          “Forgot the concert wasn’t today, huh?” Suguru replied, glancing over Shuichi’s outfit. He held up his tied wrists towards the older man, replying, “Tohma’s up to something. We’d better be careful.”
          “No kidding.” Kitazawa grunted, deftly untying Suguru’s ropes before turning to stare out the window. Ignoring K’s driving, the ghostly tutor couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the disgruntled writer, who had dealt with these nutjobs being around on a daily basis. He debated, not for the first time, allowing Shuichi to take over for the duration of his time at N-G Records. But that would be admitting defeat.