Yuki had planned to take a walk down the shoreline that night. The stars were out, and the rest of the band were still having a good time with the aides downtown. At least, he thought they were. After all, they deserved a break: it was the sixth day of practice out in Shangri-la, that legendary island where syndicated bands could practice for live performances in absolute peace. He was already putting on his jacket, when Hyde appeared at the doorway.
    "You're going out?" was the greeting. Hyde was leaning on the doorframe, thin arms folded tight across his thin chest, wearing a loose white shirt tucked neatly into that morning's pair of jeans, looking as serious and as tired as he usually did offstage. The look on his face did not invite small talk, or stupid questions like "Why aren't you out with the others?".
    "Yeah," Yuki answered with some reluctance. "Just going for a walk. You wanna come along?" But he really didn't want to ask that. Of all the members of L'arc, Hyde was the one he felt least comfortable with. For one thing, Hyde had raised an eyebrow at him during his first performance with them as backup drummer. For another, he had turned away immediately after shaking his hand when Yuki officially got accepted into the band, only a few weeks ago. Yuki had hoped that they would never be caught alone together like this.
    "No," Hyde answered tersely, coldly, as Yuki had expected. But just as a sigh of relief was collecting in Yuki's lungs, Hyde moved slightly to shift his weight, and said "I was hoping you could do me a favor."
    God, let it not be anything embarrassing. If only Yuki could tell it to anyone, the infamous vocalist of his new band, L'arc-en-ciel, felt like a sempai to him. Never mind that not even he knew how old Hyde was -- the man could be younger, and it wouldn't matter. Between them was awe, which both acknowledged as a channel giving one power over the other.
    And it didn't help that the cool vocalist was also (ironically) famous for his wisecracks and practical jokes.
    "Um…ok, yeah. Sure. What is it?"
    Yuki's aides had stationed the drum set in a far corner of the lounge of the suite the band was staying in, so Yuki could get at it whenever the fancy struck him. Hyde stepped away from the doorframe and moved slowly, languidly toward this drum set as if he had all the time in the world.
    He ran the tips of his fingers lightly over the cymbal's outer rings. One arm still remained wrapped around his chest. Hyde said nothing, and still moved without hurry. Yuki wondered if he was drunk, though he had professed before that he didn't drink.
    "I'm in the mood to sing," Hyde said loudly after a second, catching Yuki by surprise. Hyde looked at Yuki again. "I want you to play alongside me."
    Yuki scratched the back of his neck. "Um…" He chuckled nervously. "Yeah, sure. But without the guitars…"
    "I don't need the guitars."
    That sounded like it had an edge in it. An edge that said "obey or else." Yuki wasn't sure if he had just imagined it, but he didn't want to take the risk. "…Okay." Yuki took off his jacket and picked up the sticks lying on the soprano drum, seated himself.
    "What song?"
    Suddenly, in the closeness, Yuki realized that there was a darkly faraway look in Hyde's eyes. It was a look that the cameras sometimes caught and flashed to adoring young people all over the world. The look of a person not inclined to peer out of his thoughts.
    "Yukue…" Hyde answered softly, his fingertips resting absently on the cymbal.
    "What?"
    "…'Kaze no Yukue.' Sorry."
    Though Yuki wished otherwise, the "sorry" was just for not spelling the song title out. The request stung a bit. "That's one of your first recorded songs," he replied. "I wasn't part of Laruku yet then."
    Yuki-chan is such a bright boy, he was expecting Hyde to quip at that point, hurtfully or otherwise, but Hyde only said: "Let's just give it a shot, all right?"
    Before Yuki could answer, Hyde started setting up the microphone. He stationed the mike stand in front of the drum set, located the microphone itself and plugged it into the amps. The whole process did not take him long. Yuki did not have enough time to think of an excuse that would get him out of this mess. (That he didn't know how 'Kaze no Yukue' went was NOT an excuse. The band had practiced it a good while back for a concert. It was one of the first pre-established L'arc songs that he learned to play.)
    What does this mean? What if the others come back and see this? Yuki was halfway to being a
nervous wreck. What kept him intact was the thought that Hyde couldn't do anything to him that he couldn't live down.
    Yuki half-expected Hyde to grab a guitar and plug it in, too, but after the microphone was set up, he simply stood in front of the mike and glanced back at Yuki expectantly. "Well…?" the sempai asked, eyebrow raised, hand on hips.
    I don't usually freak out like this. I'm not a kid, he's probably younger than me, and people have always been easy, Yuki reminded himself, finally forcing himself to take strength from that thought. He swallowed a persistent lump in his throat and began to play.
   
    He imagined the guitars. The song starts with a guitar solo and he had gotten used to that. But though he barely noticed it, the illusion of having extra instruments faded the instant Hyde started to sing. The song sounded different when it was only Hyde's voice floating over the drums. It sounded like there had never been guitars.
    It was a different song he was playing to, a different "Kaze no Yukue." His hands were tempted to falter. Struggling for control, he only gave in to the compulsion to ease up on the beat, play slower. And Hyde's voice slowed down with the beat, smooth, cool, as if nothing was going wrong.
    Yuki felt like he was falling under a spell. His hands did not rebel against the strangeness of the alien rhythm.
    "…anata to ita azayakana kioku ga yomigaeru…"
    He realized soon enough that Hyde was doing nothing. It was he who had slowed down, and Hyde had only slowed down with him. He was in total control.
    "Ikanai de…soba ni ite hoshii…"
    He kept the beat and watched Hyde move about as if the beat had never changed. His slim, impossibly light body jerked as if pushed, or else swayed mildly, though in time to a milder beat. His hair was cropped short, but he still threw his head like long, loose strands were whipping about his face.
    His voice lilted through no barriers, free, proud, bold. Beautiful. Hyde didn't seem to know this. Or didn't seem to care.
    One hand delicately brushed back stray strands of hair from his ear, as he tilted his head back to hit a high note. His free hand was raised to the level of his shoulder, like it was preparing to snap its fingers. His shoulders shrugged subtly, one after the other, in perfect time. His eyes were closed and dreaming. None of this escaped Yuki, who knew as well as any of the other members of the band that Hyde was no longer supposed to look like this, no longer supposed to sing this way. Hyde himself had agreed not to let anyone else see that part of him again.
    Whatever it was he held in his hands, Yuki thought, amazed, whatever it was, it brought back the part of Hyde that Yuki had once called, in secret affection, "the angel."

    The song ended. Yuki wrapped up his act with a flourish. He drew out an exhilarated sigh.
    Hyde, on his part, remained standing, head down between his shoulders, both his hands sheltering the microphone head.
    He let the microphone go and turned to Yuki with a violent sway of his entire body. When the sway ended, he staggered, as if he had not meant to throw himself about that strongly. He regained footing and glanced at Yuki's face only long enough for Yuki to see that he was trying to smile.
    Then, "Thanks," Hyde said, his eyes averted.
    Just then, Hyde shook his head irritably, and snapped at no one in particular, "I'm sorry I kept you from your walk. You can go now."
    He was starting to walk away, when Yuki called after him, "Wait."
    He looked back with enmity in his gaze, and Yuki stammered, "S-sorry. I just wanted to say you were still great. I mean, even with just the drums."
    Yuki didn't know how, but these words worked a bit of magic on Hyde's attitude. He softened somewhat, and he turned back to Yuki, arms still folded across his chest, but no longer so tightly.
    It was Yuki's signal to keep talking. And bravely, he did. "You know…it never struck me before...that…it's like the guitars are following you, not the other way around."
    Hyde smiled. Smiled! It ran like praise through Yuki's veins, drew warmth back into the room.
    "That's very perceptive of you," Hyde remarked flatly. "I suppose it's also occurred to you that since I'm not following the guitars, I'm following the drums?"
    Aha, Yuki thought, his theories are reinforced. Score one for him.
    "In just this song?" he ventured to ask anyway.
    "In almost all the songs."
    "OK…now I know how important I am."
    Hyde's smile grew wider, then disappeared. He wasn't about to give in to charm that easily. But after having sung, after having been led to sing, he was subconsciously able to close a part of the distance between him and Yuki.
    Seeking a distraction, Hyde looked out the window. It was a seaside hotel, they were at the penthouse, and the window was facing seaward, but at that time of night, you could barely make anything out. Yuki wondered what he was looking out at, waited for him to speak again.
    "The guitars sometimes distract me, you see," Hyde said after a drawn-out moment. "Especially when I have to sing during a riff. I lose the words, or lose the rhythm. So I focus on the drums. If the drums falter, you know what happens? my knees turn to water. It's like I lose the strings that are holding me up."
    Yuki wasn't sure what this admission meant. He wasn't sure he wanted to speculate. He dared not think of this as being anything except Hyde's weird, grudging way of making friends.
    "Our old drummer…figured out without my having to tell him that I would lose everything if the drums failed. So he messed with my head a couple of times, while we were on live." A wistful smile found its way to Hyde's lips, which still looked full, with the traces of matte. "I was missing him a while ago. He was a seriously fucked-up kid, but we were good friends."
    "Friends"? Ken and Tetsu had spoken of Sakura as a "waste." As a friend, though -- not to the best of Yuki's recollection. Sakura was a loose cannon who sometimes deliberately broke musical equipment, stood the rest of the band up at practices, and struck innocent PA's. Tetsu didn't condone his behavior one bit, but tolerated him because of his talent. But considered him a "friend"…?
    "He was a good drummer," Hyde continued, from miles away. "One of the best."
    Yuki suddenly wondered if Hyde wasn't confusing the manipulative closeness that had existed between himself and Sakura for something nobler.
    Yuki remembered the selfless swaying of Hyde's body as he sang. There had seemed to be nothing in the world except for himself and the beat. Yuki wondered what Sakura had done with that knowledge to allow him to situate himself as Hyde's "friend" -- what the bastard had done to Hyde while he had the power to do it.
    Strange thoughts. Yuki felt fire creep along his cheeks. The feeling was something like rage, and something like shame.
    No one can be that drugged on rhythm.
    "Daijoubu ka."
    An encounter with eyes that were pieces of the ocean, and Yuki had to turn away. "Sure," he said abruptly -- he feared, too abruptly. But Hyde didn't seem to notice, or mind, anything that happened to him. They had separate demons.
    Soberly, Yuki continued, "Sure. But…I don't think I have a long way to go before I'm as good as he was."
    Now that took a lot of gall. Where could Yuki have gotten that from? Never before had he declared competition with Sakura. …But then, Yuki had never had Hyde alone to himself before.
    Hyde sneered as if aware of his discomfort.
    "Yuki" -- it was one of the first times that Hyde called him by his nickname -- "you and I both know you don't have a long way to go before you're better."
    Something inside Yuki gasped for breath. It was tempting to believe. But suddenly, Hyde chuckled, and all the illusions disappeared.
    Again he looked as serious as he usually did offstage. He shook his head, and said "I'm tired."
    Hyde moved languidly toward the doorway that he had left open. Slouched, this time, like a weary old man, drained as Yuki only realized that he was. Yuki remained sitting where he was, unsure now of what he wanted to do, of what he should be doing.
    Upon stepping inside the room, Hyde turned back to Yuki. "I think I can sleep now. You've just about known everything you have to know about me, Mr. New Drummer," Hyde said softly, coyly. "Yoroshiku ne," he finished with the absence of a smile. And then the door between the only two people in the room shut.

    A lot of times that night, Yuki thought about going back up to the penthouse, walking up to Hyde's room and knocking on the door. But he spent the rest of the evening walking down the shoreline, as he had originally wanted to do, feeling empty inside.
    The stars were out and the waves crashed onto the sand softly and regularly, like drumbeats, like heartbeats. Yuki heard an unearthly voice swaying in the night breeze, to the rhythm of the waves and little else: kaze wa…tsugi ni dare o otozuneru no darou…
    The ethereal voice had opened up to him, seeming a bit more vulnerable, but no less mysterious. That in itself would be the hardest thing to forget, Yuki knew, about that night: the way Hyde held on to his veils. The way the darkly faraway look did not disappear as he talked, as he frowned, as he smiled, the entire time.
    Hyde had secrets that invited probing. Can anyone blame Yuki for wanting to know? And for believing he could know? Can anyone really blame Sakura for believing it first of all?
    Though he fought it, a smile crept to his lips. A smile of grim confidence, of knowing. A smile he knew only at the edge of his awareness to have occurred to a rival once before. The emptiness inside him disappeared. He resigned himself to the feeling the smile brought, to the knowledge that at one time or another he would have to win.
    He was the beat.
    He was the one the voice relied on.

~oOo~