Ultra Symphony
Chapter 21: On the other side of the universe...
***
The stadium was packed, as usual, and the air of excitement hung above everyone like a heavy shroud. Every so often a voice would ring out of the crowd, usually a high pitched female voice.
On stage, a full orchestra played a gentle, somber melody, and a sextet of soprano voices smoothly "aaahhh"ed. The women stepped slightly out onto the stage, darkened except for a series of floating blue and pink lights. Every so often one light or another would illuminate the singers, who were revealed to be wearing large skirted, 18th century French style dresses, spiked heels and blue and pink hair, color split down the middle.
In the middle of the stage, almost covered in darkness, stood an enigmatic figure, tall and aristocratic, yet playful and jaunty. He had a strange aura about him; his chin-length, pure white hair flowed around his lowered head, and whenever the lights hit him, his eyes could be seen from the audience to be huge, innocent and strangely blue.
The music began to pick up, and the soprano's "aaah"s turned slowly into discernable lyrics. One at a time, they joined the singing, until they were all slowly singing,
"Don't ask me to say it now,
I won't tell you to say it now
Don't ask me to say it now,
I won't tell you to say it now..."
Their voices rose, as the music grew louder and louder..
The reporter smiled demurely as she crossed her legs and sat down in the plush purple couch. She was wearing a dark red business suit and an air of artificial confidence. Despite her job as top reporter for the Daily Taiyou, she still felt a little giddy.
He sat across from her, in much the same position. His gleaming white hair shone slightly blue in the windowy room, and his eyes were relaxed.
The lights came up all at once as the instruments and voices shattered into the smoky abyss of the stadium. And there he was, shining like an angel amidst the French damsels.
He was very tall, and for a few moments, he stood stoically as the music took on a decidedly modern rockish sound and the backup singers began swirling around, looking like large roses.
He was wearing a long, red mandarin-collared shirt, held on by black leather straps as the sides had been cut off. He had long black gloves on, with metal spiked elbow and shoulder pads. His pants were wide, pleated and floor-sweeping, with a large bow in the back, and to top it off, he was also wearing white tights and sandals, and a headset microphone with additional spikes. Around his forehead was a long, thin black scarf that trailed down his back like silk pigtails. His eyes were accentuated by dark blue mascara and eyeshadow.
"Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!" The crowd cried in unison, as he reached into his pants pocket. With a great deal of theatrics, he pulled out a pair of sunglasses and put them on.
The crowd went wild, and he suddenly came to life; pumping his fist in the air.
"Yeeeeaaahh!!! You all know this song, yeah?" He screamed in English, his voice slightly scratchy.
The crowd screamed the affirmative.
"This song is for all of you.. Arigatou!" He said happily, and the song began.
"So, tell me.. what it is you're trying to.. to say with your music." The reporter said inquisitively.
He looked at her, his eyes smiling. He was sipping juice through a straw in a clear glass with pictures of dancing girls in bikinis. He finished and put the cup down.
"My music is really no different from anyone else's music, Miss Shiyako. Well.. no, I take that back, it is different. It's better than most other peoples' music." He said, laughing.
She chewed on her pencil, uncertain of what to say.
"No, I'm just kidding! Really, my music is just what it is.. it comes from my soul. That's all there is to it. I'm not out to change the world."
His voice was smooth, dramatic, and the words he sang were in English, which most of his fans didn't really understand.
"What I need from you
Doesn't come from inside your heart
Don't try to give me love
From your tiny, childish soul.
Give me your everything
And your nothing
Will Tantalize no one with its insipid naivete.."
The crowd knew the next line, however, and sung along with gusto.
"I won't tell you to say it now!"
"I know there has been a lot of speculation about your lyrics, they are totally sung in Eigo.. is this at all an influence of your manager, Jeri-san?" Shiyako asked lightly.
His eyes narrowed.
"When I need you to validate my emotions..." He began.
"You will be there!" He and the crowd finished.
"But to reward you,
There will be no moonlight kisses.
Give me your nothing,
And let your everything die in solitude
Your naivete looks much more attractive encased in sorrow..."
"Don't ask me to say it now!" The crowd roared.
"For your information, Shiyako-san, the fact that Jerry-san is now my manager came about only recently, with the acquisition of Akikutsu records. I've been singing in English since I arrived as a singer, the art is mine alone. His influence is nonexistant."
She began to wish she hadn't even asked. Quickly shifting the mood, she smiled and asked lightly, "What exactly was your childhood like?"
Without any sort of pause, he said simply, "A bloodied cesspool of neverending torture and agony."
Would your graceless ways
Infect my soul with light meaninglessness
And give me the childhood I never had
If I thought to call you 'darling'?"
The backup singers "aaahh"ed.
His eyes lit up devastatingly and he laughed. "Boy, Shiyako-san, you're pretty gullible.. my childhood was fine! I had everything a boy could want."
She exhaled, smiling. Her eyes were drawn downward to his crossed legs; bare except for a knee-length navy blue pleated skirt, knee socks and black mary janes. His shirt was short-sleeved and white, with a blue sailor collar and red tie.
He met her eyes and smiled. "And everything I wanted wasn't pretty dresses and Jenny dolls."
She laughed nervously.
"Or would you crumble under the pressure
Take solace inside your youth
Would I feel myself as a parent to your tiny child
If I thought to embrace you as my something?"
The music became louder, guitars and violins wailing, horns blasting, the sopranos swirling, their notes hanging high above the ceiling.
"Can I get you more juice? A different kind?" He asked, smiling.
"Oh, no.. thank you." She said, jotting down notes.
He licked his lips and leaned back in his couch, looking out the window at the city below him. The sun shone beautifully over the buildings and into his lap. It looked like heaven...
She paused for a second, looking down at her notebook uncertainly, as though the garbled notes were some sort of oracle. She then looked up, biting her lip.
"If you don't mind, one last question?" She asked.
He looked back to her, half his face bathed in golden sunlight.
"Of course." He said, nodding.
The instrumental solo was the best he believed he'd ever heard. The tune was complex, chaotic even, but the orchestra carried it out with perfection. He closed his eyes at the sound and turned around to face it. Like a great, powerful wind, the music chilled his soul, and he smiled, crying out in rapture. He would have anyway, it was part of the song.
"There has been much talk about your alleged rivalry with Hayagane Mikono.. I just want to know, in the wake of the terrorist attack on her concert, do you have any new views about her?"
He frowned.
The music grew more and more intense, rising and rising, as the sopranos whirled; their former mix between a waltz and dirty dancing fading away as his lyrics had only moments ago.
And then, all at once, the chaos came to order, the sopranos, the instruments, the lights, the world, all came together to ring as one single note. One note straight from heaven.
"Miss Shiyako, I would like to respond to your inquiry by stating simply this." he said, all traces of irony or humor gone from his voice.
As he cried out, his voice the one straying chord in the rhapsody, he threw his arms out and spun around, the power flowing through him like wine in his veins.
"The rivalry of which you speak..."
Tonight, the entire universe looked on in awe at him.. his power.. his wonder.... And never again, would any man speak of any other night as his moment of revelation.
Tonight was pure magic.. Like a great composer, a great magician, he was.
And never again, would anyone ever speak of anything...
"...Simply does not exist."
SHE could do.
"I have nothing but sympathy for Hayagane Mikono and the tragedy that has befallen us all."
The music all at once fell, and for a moment, silence and darkness eclipsed the stadium. When the lights returned, they were blood red. When the music returned, it was the sound of one single dying violin.
Around him, his lovely sopranos slowly collapsed, like dying swans. They lay in a perfect circle, their skirts spread wide like a silk flower.
And for a moment, all he could do was breathe. A few rogue cheers from the audience begged him to end his miraculous song, and with a sharp, cracking voice, he cried out his final lyrics.
"Your blood can't save me!!"
The lights slowly dimmed, and he flinched as he realized he had missed a cue.
"My blood won't take orders from you!!"
He then raised his arms up high, removed his sunglasses and threw them into the audience. The audience's somber quiet disintegrated into a frenzy of applause, and he bowed low.
She saw herself out, and he lay back in his cushion, closing his eyes.
He heard the applause inside his mind, certain that it still continued...
Because tonight... he was God.
***
