Confessions & Cigarettes

The crowd was silent. Reporters held pens over their notepads as microphones were raised to catch every single word. Ryuichi looked over at Tohma, took a deep breath and said, "First, I'd like to say that we've found the reaction towards this morning's news conference unprofessional even by press standards. There was no follow-up and hardly any research into that person's statement before the press started hounding our friends and families for the truth."

Hiro shifted in his seat, looking over the assembled reporters. Some were turning red and others were shuffling their feet. It was funny really, exactly how much power Ryuichi had over even the press – even Tohma would not have made them look so ashamed. It probably had to do with who he was. Ryuichi rarely gave interviews that were not him talking through Kumagoro, or him being the sex god.

"As for the accusations brought up, they are mostly false. I did know of Daichi Kumori – she was a mental health patient around the same time I had been admitted. Not for drugs, as she has told you, but for sever anemia brought on by over-work and not eating properly. The closest I get to any drug is chocolate and even then it's regulated so I don't get too hyper and lead a Kumagoro revolt against the icons of Uncoolness or something."

He smiled slightly, getting a few nervous laughs. Tohma looked over the crowd, his eyes sliding closed and his mouth gently smiling, and rested his hand on Ryuichi's other shoulder. The singer took a deep breath and rubbed his neck.

"She had been trying to lay any numbers of claims against me from stealing her panties to being her father ever since, but usually the N-G lawyers manage to catch her at her tales before they get too big. But I guess she must have gotten tired of that route and went directly to the press which has now brought us to this point. I don't like doing this. I don't like talking about private stuff because music isn't supposed to be about what I like and don't like. It's supposed to be about the music and everything it can say. But I guess that sometimes I just have to say a few things when stuff like this happens."

Ryuichi took another breath, and Hiro suddenly realized why he didn't like talking to the press. It had less to do with the music and more to do with the way he leaned into the support of the other two Graspers, the way he looked down at his guitar only to glance up. As playful and normal he could be, getting stuck under the eyes of the press made him uncomfortable.

"She was never my lover. She is a delusional person who cannot accept the reality of not being my lover. I do have a child but that child is not going to be made public until the time is right. I do not do drugs, and I was never placed in a program to clean up my act. I don't have any act to clean up unless it's to have an extra set of pants when I get too hot on stage. And that's all. So can you guys just go and tell everyone it's a mistake? I'd really like to get back to working on our concert for the end of this month."

He backed away from the microphone, ducking a little and pressing up against Noriko. Tohma stepped forward, standing in front of Ryuichi and still smiling that same pleasant smile that destroyed more than one career over his lifetime.

"Thank you for listening. N-G Productions will answer any questions later this day, but for now, we request that the press will vacate and let us work in peace."

The press stood around for a few moments, a few looking as if they were going to ignore Grasper's requests. But then K jumped onto the stage, his assault rifle resting on his hip like he had forgotten it was there, and a broad grin on his face. Hiro could almost see the thoughts on the minds of the press, most of them having one time or another faced off against the American and his guns. It only took a few minutes for the press to leave, mostly because they had to avoid running into equipment vans and clueless bands arriving for they sound tests.

Nittle Grasper waited until the last of the reporters were specks of dust before collapsing into a tangle in the center of the stage. Puffing smoke, Eiri climbed up the stairs past Hiro, Shuichi a burr clinging to his side. Hiro got up and followed them, noticing that Tatsuha was hanging back and taking pictures.

"Are you satisfied?" Eiri said, tapping his foot against Ryuichi's leg.

"Not until you kiss me," Ryuichi replied, his mouth twisting. "Wake me up from this nightmare, Tohma!"

"I am not kissing you. You should ask Kumagoro to kiss you."

"But he hasn't shaved!"

"Silly Ryu! Kumagoro is not real!"

"Don't listen to her!" Ryuichi clamped his hands over the stuffed rabbit's ears, curling a little over the rabbit and pulling away from the other two Graspers. Noriko sighed and smacked Ryuichi on the arm.

"Won't someone kiss me?"

Eiri turned on his brother before he could jump at the chance, and surprisingly Tatsuha stopped in mid-jump and cleared his throat. Hiro blinked at the rare act and looked over at Shuichi, who was looking at Tatsuha like he expected the man to break out in hives next. Ryuichi was watching Tatsuha too, and Hiro could have sworn he went and winked at the monk before falling back and resting his hands on Tohma's shoulders.

"You do realize the reporters will sell that single," Eiri said, still smoking. Tohma just shrugged, leaning back against Ryuichi and Noriko. Eiri frowned and nudge Tohma with his foot. "Do you?"

"We've got it covered," Ryuichi said, sitting up and draping his arms over his knees. "In fact –"

He went silent, mouth half open and his face growing white. The other two Graspers looked up at their singer, Noriko reaching out to touch his shoulder. Ryuichi ignored her, jumping to his feet, anger etching harsh lines in his face and making the veins in his neck throb. Hiro took a step back and almost tripped over someone's feet.

"Excuse me," he said, stepping back and looking up. Then Hiro froze too, just like the rest of those on the stage, confusion giving way to a numb sort of understanding. This guy – in his well-pressed suit and graying hair – could have been Ryuichi in another life.

"It is fine," the middle-aged man said, bowing slightly. Hiro shook himself out of the shook, hearing the difference in voice and seeing the differences in eyes and hair cut. Heavier too, and wearing a suit. This was no look-a-like, not the way Shuichi had been at first.

"Get the hell out!" Ryuichi clenched his hands, Tohma's hand on his shoulder the only thing holding him place. "What the fuck are you doing here? I don't want you here!"

"Ryuichi behave." The businessman glanced over at Tohma. "Is this how you feel he should act like?"

"He acts the way he wishes," Tohma replied, a frown appearing. "I do not think that he should be controlled like a pet."

"Is that why you are preventing him from hitting me?"

Tohma started, glancing over at the singer. Then an easy bland smile fell across his face and he let go of Ryuichi's shoulder. The singer took a step forward, the knuckles of his hands white and his eyes a dark muddy blue. Hiro sucked in his breath, expecting to see another explosion but Ryuichi closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Visibly, slowly, he forced the anger out - unclenching his hands, rolling his shoulders back, and then swung his guitar off his shoulders.

"Why are you acting this way anyways? It's been years, man. I've proven that my crap idea was worth it."

"It is not that."

"Then what? You worried or something? I don't even know why, half the people here don't even know who you are." Ryuichi smiled, nodding to himself even as he ran the pads of his fingers over the guitar strings. "Some days I don't know who you are, and that says a lot."

"Ryuichi. . ."

"Go home, Father." The lines were back, etching paths at the corner of his mouth and deep between his eyes. "Just. . . I can't deal with your shit on top of everyone else's. Go home and I'll talk to you about it when half of Japan is not standing around."

Ryuichi's father? Hiro just blinked, looking from one man to the other. Despite the same general body shape and features, they could be two strangers for the amount of loyalty they showed each other. A few moments passed then the older Sakuma bowed, turned and left. Ryuichi's mouth twisted and he looked at the guitar in his hands. For a second it looked like he was going to smash it against the ground but he laughed – high pitched and broken – and laid it down in its case.

At that sound, the whole stage seemed to bounce back to normal. Shuichi clung to Eiri, babbling about how tense that was, Tatsuha trying and failing to get close to Ryuichi, Tohma and Noriko putting back to rights the instruments they were using. Yet Hiro felt like he wasn't a part of it, as if that part of the world was just outside his reach, like a vision or a dream. A crescendo of sound, babbling outside of his hearing, the press of bodies as others appeared and went, and then he was squatting next to Ryuichi, watching the singer as his fingers stroke the strings of his apple-green guitar.

"I really don't remember why we fight any more," he said softly.

Hiro didn't say anything. Ryuichi glanced over at him, looking tired and worn.

"I think we destroyed any chance for any rehearsal today."

"Do you want to go home?" The words came out before Hiro registered that he said them. He bit his lower lip and rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean. . ."

"I know." Ryuichi closed and latched his guitar case, standing up and swinging it over his shoulder. He tilted his head to the side, looking down at Hiro and then turned on his heel. A few strides and he was standing next to Emi and Hikari, bending down and saying something to his daughter. He hugged both of them and moved on, only the top of his guitar case telling Hiro where the singer was heading to next.

"Nakano-san."

Hiro jumped, looking away from the bobbing guitar case and up at his boss. Tohma's hair was drying in soft spikes around his face, circles apparent under his eyes. He looked down at Hiro and then held something out to him. It took him a moment to realize that Tohma was holding out a set of car keys.

"Make sure Ryuichi gets home safely."

"But. . ." Hiro said, biting his lip at the look in Tohma's eyes. He took the keys. "I'll do my best."

Tohma smiled and walked away, joining the small crowd around Mika and their toddler. Hiro looked at the car keys and shrugged, got up and made his way over to where he last seen the guitar case. He soon found Ryuichi sitting on the edge of the stage, drumming his feet against the bare wood.

"You ever wonder what would happen if you listened to your parents?"

"I would be sitting in school, studying until I have facts crawling out of my ears," Hiro replied, sitting next to him.

Ryuichi snorted, looking over at him. "So why are you following me now?"

"Seguchi-san told me to drive you home."

"Seriously?"

For an answer, Hiro held out the car keys. Ryuichi chuckled, taking them from him.

"And you didn't tell him you don't drive."

"I have a motorcycle. Maybe he thought it was the same."

Ryuichi shook his head, looking over his shoulder. He smiled and slid off the stage, looking up at Hiro and motioning him to follow. Hiro knew this was going to be a bad idea but Tohma did want him to make sure Ryuichi got home safely. He just didn't want to hear that Hiro only had a license for a motorcycle, not a car. But as he slid off the stage and followed Ryuichi, he just really did not care.