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Gankutsuou Reborn	By : roryheadmav Category: +G to L > Gankutsuou Views: 5812 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gankutsuou, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
DISCLAIMER: This story is a non-commercial
work of fiction based on the anime/manga Gankutsuou. Original copyright
of Gankutsuou belongs to Mahiro Maeda, Gonzo/Media Factory, GDH.
Absolutely no monetary gain has been made with this work.
GANKUTSUOU REBORN

© August 23, 2005 By Rory
V. Pascual

CHAPTER THREE: New Acquaintances
Etienne sat at his dresser, running
his brush through his silken mane with listless strokes. He had long since
lost count, uncertain whether he was still lacking or had already exceeded
the prerequisite hundred strokes necessary to maintain the health of his
crowning glory.
There was a soft humming behind
him, and he jerked hard on the brush in surprise, painfully yanking out
several strands in the process. Slowly, he turned to look at the huge dressing
mirror on the wall. Dark shadows flitted across the mirror's face like
a turbulent maelstrom.
"Etienne�"
That cold voice caused him to
drop the brush on the floor.
"ETIENNE!"
Terror made him stand up. Fleeing
was never an option. He had to obey or else he would incur the wrath of
the being that lived behind the mirror.
Etienne quietly padded towards
the mirror. Within that glass, a dark shadow was also walking towards him.
At first, he thought it was his reflection � same height, same build, the
same long flowing mane, except the clothes the wraith wore were pitch black,
with red flames running up the long sleeves. The being's face was shrouded
by shadows. He knew that he was not looking at his own image, but someone
else's entirely.
Someone he had known�
Someone he should know�
"Sing to me, my Angel of Music!
Sing! I want to hear that beautiful voice that I had created for you and
you alone!"
Etienne's trembling lips parted,
but what came out was not a song, but a question. "Who are you?"
"I am the Phantom who haunts your
deepest psyche, and I have come to demand that you fulfill your oath to
me!"
"What oath?" he cried, shaking
in fear. "I don't understand! Erik�."
The Phantom slowly lifted his
head as he muttered, "My name is not Erik! I am�"
To Etienne's horror, the entity
in the mirror had no face. As he watched, strange markings blazed with
crimson fire where its face should be. From the graceful curlicues, malevolent
golden eyes opened.
A long pointed tongue snaked out
of its gaping maw, and Etienne screamed.

~~~~~~~~~~
"ETIENNE!"
With a strangled cry, the singer
awoke from his nightmare and threw himself into a warm, protective embrace.
"Sister Bertrille! It was terrible!"
Etienne sobbed, his whole body quaking in sheer terror. "I saw the face
of the Devil himself!"
"It's all right!" a kind voice soothed
him. "It was just a nightmare. You're safe now."
The singer stopped at once. That
voice was most definitely male.
Etienne pulled away with a start,
only to behold the gentlest face he had ever seen in his life. Wavy short
brown hair, bright blue orbs with a small mole at the corner of his left
eye, a charming smile� A blushed rushed up his cheeks.
"I'm sorry," he said, deeply embarrassed,
as he turned his gaze away. "I thought you were Sister Bertrille."
"Oh, you mean the Mother Superior?
She went to get some tea. I told her she didn't have to." The young man
scratched his head sheepishly. "She was rather insistent."
"Yes, it's so difficult to say no
to her."
"What happened to you? I must confess
we nearly ran you over."
At that moment, Sister Bertrille
entered the room, bearing a tray with tea. "Did you suffer another attack,
child?" To their guest, she explained, "Etienne often gets these terrible
headaches, you see."
Etienne nodded. "It was awful this
time, Sister! For awhile there, I thought I heard voices."
"Must be because of all the activity
and excitement of the past month. You should really get more rest." The
kind nun pressed a small box of pills into his hands. "Here. This will
help you sleep. Take no more than two every night."
"As if sleep were possible for someone
in my profession." The singer said this with a wry grimace.
"Then take them during your sleep
time even if it's during the day," the young man put in. "A good sleep
is always the best cure for headaches."
Etienne gave him a dark scowl, offended
that a complete stranger would offer him advice. "What are you anyway �
a doctor?"
"Etienne Delacroix!" Sister Bertrille
declared sharply. "You're being rude to the man who just saved your life!"
Mismatched eyes blinked in confusion.
"He saved my life? But he just said that he nearly ran over me!"
"Actually, it was my carriage, although
I was riding my motorcycle when the horses went out of control."
"You should have seen him, my child,"
the Mother Superior gushed excitedly. "It was a scene straight out of an
adventure novel! He stopped the horses with a crack of his whip and gentle
words before they could trample you."
There was a dubious expression on
Etienne's face. Surely this boyish-looking young man couldn't have done
something that heroic. "You did that?"
Again, their guest scratched his
head, grinning. "Yes, I think I did. I just acted. I really didn't know
what I was doing actually."
"Oh, stop being so modest, boy!"
Sister Bertrille chided him.
"What's your name? I mean�" The singer
struggled for politeness, seeing the nun shoot daggers at him with her
eyes. "You already know mine."
"I'm Albert Herrera. Pleased to meet
you." Albert then revealed, "You know, never in my wildest dreams did I
imagine that I'd end up saving the life of the Nightingale of Luna. Truth
be told, you're the reason why I came here in the first place. I heard
that you were a fantastic singer and I wanted to see you perform."
"Albert Herrera�" Etienne thought
for a long moment. "I don't recall seeing your name among the reservations
at the club."
"That's because I just arrived here
today."
"Sorry to say, Monsieur Herrera,
but you'll have to wait two whole months before you could get to hear me
sing. La Decadenza is fully booked."
"You would let the man who just saved
your life wait for two whole months?" Sister Bertrille asked incredulously.
She patted Albert's shoulder. "I'll tell you what. Why don't you come to
our humble church this Sunday for the morning Mass?"
Albert hastily interrupted, "Sister,
I'm really not a churchgoer and�"
"Etienne here always sings during
the morning Mass. If you're lucky and his employer is in a good mood on
that day, he might be permitted to stay longer to teach the children some
hymns during Bible class."
"Sister Bertrille!" Etienne exclaimed.
He couldn't believe what the sly nun had just said. "You told me earlier
that I could skip a few Masses. You even said that the Good Lord would
understand!"
"Oh, but you'll be here THIS Sunday.
If I need to get Signore Tintoretto's permission, I will do so." The Mother
Superior whispered to Albert like an accomplice in crime, "Don't worry,
my boy. I'll make certain that Father Tretini keeps his sermons short and
the distribution of Communion slower for you to be able to hear Etienne
sing longer. Hmm� Maybe we should have the Mass in the traditional form,
with all the Readings, Psalms and prayers sung."
"Do that and Father Tretini will
die before he even makes his sermon," Etienne snorted. "That old priest
has emphysema from all those foul-smelling cigars he's been smoking."
"Etienne! Where are your manners?"
Sister Bertrille lost all patience with the singer. "I can't believe
you could be so hostile to Albert! Apologize this instant!"
Chastened by that fierce rebuke,
Etienne turned to Albert with a not-so-sincere look of apology on his face.
"Forgive me, Albert. It's just that I'm not used to talking to someone
who's the same age as I am. You also said that you wanted to hear me sing,
and I readily assumed that�after the performance�we would� All my so-called
admirers would�."
The sexual connotation in his words
was painfully apparent to Albert. Before he could offer a reassurance,
someone interjected at the doorway, "You are right not to trust young Albert
here."
It was a grinning Baptistin. Going
towards Albert, he draped his arm over the now scowling younger man's shoulders
and pointed a finger at him.
"He's a pirate, greatly feared in
all four quadrants of the galaxy. Why, that rogue Luigi Vampa would piss
in his pants � Sorry about that, Sister � at the mere mention of the name
'Albert Herrera'!" He even stated the name with an exaggerated sweep of
his right hand.
"I don't think my fingers would even
twitch at a pirate with that ordinary, harmless sounding name," Etienne
muttered under his breath, warranting a heavy heel on his toes courtesy
of the nun.
Bertuccio, who had been listening
to the amusing conversation outside, entered the room. "You have nothing
to fear from Albert, Monsieur Delacroix. Despite his youth, his amorous
attentions are always focused on men older than him. You should see how
passionate he gets with men more than half his age."
"Don't listen to him!" Albert cried
out to the singer. To his two friends, he glared. "As for you two, shut
up!"
But Baptistin continued, "His last
affair was with a country nobleman. Poor Albert's heart was broken when�"
Both Albert and Bertuccio throttled
the knave before he could go on.
"Is that true?"
That soft query escaped Etienne's
lips before he realized he had said it.
It was Albert's turn to blush. Seeing
no reason to lie, especially in front of a nun, he admitted, "Yes. I fell
in love with an aristocrat, but�"
"Oh, I see," was Etienne's quiet
answer. Somehow, he could not understand why it hurt to hear that admission
from Albert's own lips.
Sister Bertrille noticed the thoughtful,
but sad expression on the singer's face. "Does that bother you, Etienne?"
she asked in seeming innocence.
At that query, Etienne's cheeks burned
and he shot to his feet in an instant. Clearly flustered, he stammered,
"I must go! Signore Tintoretto must be looking for me by now!" Hastily,
he added to all, "I cannot promise that I'll be here on Sunday. Forgive
me!" Without saying another word, the singer fled from the room.
Albert's eyes fell upon the book
sitting on the table. Grabbing it, he hurried after the singer, calling,
"Etienne!
Wait!"
By the time he went out the front
door, however, Etienne had already crossed the street and disappeared into
the crowd.
Groaning, Albert flopped his hands
to his sides, still holding the book that the singer had left behind. Turning
his forlorn blue eyes heavenwards, he complained, "What did I do wrong?"
Baptistin, who was coming up behind
him, heard his lament. "I think you lost your boyish charm when you grew
up..."
"I'm not THAT old!"
"Or maybe he really is not
the Count. The Master always said that there's something about you that
he found irresistible."
Bertuccio went towards them. "Well,
this is just our first meeting. I'm sure you'll see each other again. Better
take the good sister's suggestion and attend Mass on Sunday here."
"But he said he's not going to show
up," Albert argued helplessly.
"He only said that so you wouldn't
attend the Sunday service." In his frustration, Baptistin scratched his
head furiously, messing up his hair. "For heaven's sake, you sound as if
you haven't been in love before."
Sorrow crossed Albert's boyish features.
"Actually, I have�twice. And I messed both up pretty badly."
Bertuccio laid his arm over the younger
man's shoulder, smiling reassuringly. "Then don't mess this one up this
time."

~~~~~~~~~~
Etienne dropped to his knees, holding
his aching belly where Tintoretto had punched him. The Italian towered
over him, shaking in fury. He reached down and grabbed a fistful of the
singer's hair, yanking his head up. Despite his promises that he would
never damage his star's face, Etienne was terrifyingly certain that his
Master would do so now.
Tintoretto shook the younger man's
head hard, causing hair strands to be pulled out by the roots. "Where the
hell have you been? I thought I forbade you from leaving the club without
me or a bouncer with you!"
"I wanted to go to church to pray,"
cried Etienne, tears filling his eyes from the stinging pain in his scalp.
"I didn't do anything wrong!"
"You've been gone for three hours!
You met one of that bitch pianist's friends, didn't you? Tell me the truth!"
"I did nothing, I swear! I�I suffered
another attack! That's why I took so long! You can ask Sister Bertrille!"
"That damned nun will only cover
up for you! Now tell me! Where did you go? Do you have a lover I don't
know about?"
"Please, Master! You're hurting me!"
"TELL ME!"
Etienne's hands flew up to pry those
brutal fingers lose from his hair, but when pain tore through his head
all of a sudden, he found himself gripping his forehead instead. To Tintoretto's
horror, blood started pouring from the singer's nostrils.
"ETIENNE!" the Italian exclaimed
as he felt the young man fall limp in his grip like a wilting flower. He
picked the singer up before he could totally collapse. Beholding the anguish
on that beautiful face, Tintoretto clucked his tongue, remarking, "I guess
you really were telling me the truth."
The club owner carried his ailing
star into the lift, going up to their suite at the top floor. Laying Etienne
on the large four-post bed, Tintoretto unbuttoned the shirt and stripped
off the trousers and gloves. He also wiped away the blood from the singer's
face with a washcloth.
When he was done, Tintoretto found
himself gazing down at the siren on his bed. He could never get tired of
looking at the exquisite beauty of his star attraction. Those strange markings
all over his body only served to heighten his allure. It was a temptation
he could never resist, no matter what state the singer was in.
Loosening his trousers, the Italian
climbed on the bed, straddling those slender hips. Spreading the long legs,
Tintoretto positioned himself in between and penetrated that puckered opening.
Like a bull overwhelmed by the heat of its mate, he thrust repeatedly into
the singer's body until he was spent. Throughout the plundering of his
flesh, Etienne never awakened.
Taking the insensate young man was
not as satisfactory as he had expected. Buttoning up his trousers, Tintoretto
left the chamber in silence, locking the door behind him, and pondering
whether or not he should cancel the show later that evening.
Ten minutes passed since the door
to the suite clicked shut. Then, those dark pink marks blazed with unearthly
fire on Etienne's brow, and those malevolent eyes opened.
The entity snorted in disgust at
the sight of the semen and blood on the bed sheets. :That fool Italian
doesn't know how to bring a hot-blooded young man such as this to the heights
of ecstasy. My poor Etienne! How about I let you enjoy yourself this time?:
From those strange marks, tongues
of red and orange liquid fire poured out, slowly licking down Etienne's
cheeks, eliciting a mumble from the singer. The flames descended the long
graceful neck, then the right shoulder followed by the left, going down
further to his chest and his back. Etienne moaned in pleasure as the flames
licked his tender nipples, making them tighten into sharp points. Unconsciously,
the singer's hands went up to fondle those taut nubs.
On and on, those flames trailed down
Etienne's body, teasing him, fueling him with desire so overwhelming that
it demanded to be sated. When the fire finally concentrated at the area
of his groin and his just battered entrance, Etienne could no longer endure
it.
With his legs splayed to its widest
extent, Etienne seized his burgeoning erection in his right hand, while
the fingers of his left hand plunged into his opening. The singer cried
and moaned in carnal excitement, as he pumped himself vigorously, his fingers
thrusting into his bleeding channel at the same frantic rhythm.
:Say my name Etienne,: the
entity whispered insidiously, feeling the young man about to reach the
peak. :Say it!:
The name that the singer uttered
with such passion, however, was someone else's.
Etienne sat bolt upright in bed with
gasp, just as he spilled his release. His body shaking, he pressed his
hand to the darkening bruise on his right cheek that had just received
a fierce slap, only to discover his fingers wet and slimy. The bile threatened
to rise up his throat, seeing his thighs spattered with semen and blood.
In the end, the tears poured from his mismatch eyes, realizing what he
had done.
Tintoretto had been bedding him while
he lay insensate, and he had, unwittingly, spoken another man's name. A
man he had just met�
Etienne shook his head as his mind
was filled by image of bright blue eyes so like the morning sky. This
is nothing but foolishness! I cannot jeopardize my existence here, not
when salvation is so close! I WON'T!
But even to his ears, that mental
declaration lacked firm resolve.

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Gankutsuou Reborn