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Stairway to Heaven

[There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold
          And she's buying a stairway to heaven
                    When she gets there she knows, if the stores are all closed
                              With a word she can get what she came for]

January 1, 1999

Have a hangover.

          "You sound terrible," the voice said over the phone. "What did Yu~ki do to you, dump you inside your door and drive off?"
          Gackt touched a hand to his head and winced. "Yu~ki's right," he said gloomily. "I’m never drinking again."
          The laugh was staticky. "Yeah right. I know you. Anyway, I was just calling to check if you were all right. Yu~ki said you were out cold by the time you two got back to your apartment. He said that if you were awake to tell you sorry that he didn't stay the night, but he had to go somewhere this morning."
          He looked around his room, at the bright daylight streaming from under the curtains, and felt his stomach lurch. "Excuse me," he said into the phone, dropping the cordless black piece of plastic on the floor, stumbling to the bathroom and bending over the toilet.
          He stayed there dry-heaving for a while, then got up, bending over the sink and turning on the water to splash his face. The coolness made it feel a little better, and he dared to look up at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were red with the look of a man still half asleep, and he winced as another stab of pain shot through his head. Reaching for the cloth on the towel rack, he dried his face and made his way slowly back to the bedroom.
          "Kami? Are you still there?"
          "Where the hell did you-"
          "Sorry. Bathroom."
          A pause. "Oh." Another pause and then a rueful chuckle. "You know, I never knew you had it in you. You're not really the drunk type…but it being New Years and all, I guess I'll forgive you."
          He shrugged, knowing that Kami couldn't see the gesture but feeling obligated to make it anyway. "I know." His mind repeating the words like a mantra.
          I know you know. You think you know me. But you don't.
          Not at all.
          "Gackt?"
          "What?" he said absently, clutching the phone to his ear with one hand as he sat down on the bed and rummaged around for his slippers. The floor was cold.
          "What's with the long silences? Hey…if you don't feel well, you should go back to sleep."
          "I feel fine. What are you doing today?"
          Kami laughed lightly. "Feeling sociable? I was going to go downtown and see if I couldn't do some after holiday shopping."
          It's New Years'," he said. "Aren't the stores closed?"
          "Well, some of them. Most of the stores downtown are open, actually, and all the sales should be starting today. Want to come?"
          "Would you be by yourself if I didn't?" There they were. He slid his feet into the slippers and slowly stood up. The room stayed steady. He should just get rid of the bed and invest in tatami mats instead.
          There are candles in my room, Mana had said to him one night after a live, standing behind the live house and waiting for the other members to finish packing. It had been cold and dark and the stars were pricks of silver needles through the night sky.
          Candles? He said, not understanding, not really listening.
          The flames look like little stars at night, reflecting on the porcelain skin of dolls.
          Mana creeped him out sometimes. And he wasn't frightened easily, but sometimes, Mana managed to do it.
          "Well, I could always ask Yu~ki. If you don't want to come, that is."
          "I think…I'd rather stay here for a while. I don't feel too good."
          "All right." The voice was worried. "You take care of yourself, all right?"
          "Yeah," he said quietly. It was cold but he didn't turn on the heat, walking to the window and drawing back the curtain for a bit, staring out. The sun had gone behind some clouds, and the sky was gray. "I think I'll go try to finish that song."
          "See you soon," Kami said, and hung up before Gackt could say anything. Not that he had really wanted to.
 

[And she's buying a stairway to heaven]

December 15, 1998

Practice. Did nothing. Argued with Mana. Again.

          Mana was standing by the keyboard when he had gone into the studio to just do a little playing, but he wasn't surprised. He'd expected the guitarist to show up at his doorstep last week, but Mana had instead just avoided him, canceling practice, anything to make it all around impossible for them to see each other. This was normal when they'd had an argument, which they had had the previous week, and he was starting to think that Mana actually enjoyed trying to prove him wrong.
          Which he told himself was all right, because Mana's opinion was only one out of thousands, but he'd been thinking about it. This was the longest they'd gone not speaking to each other after one of their disagreements. He wondered what Mana wanted.
          "Well, isn't this a surprise," he said, hearing the sarcastic undertone in his voice and not doing anything to stop it. He walked over to the keyboard, flipping on the studio lights in the process. Mana had his hair pulled back today, sunglasses perched on top of his head, wearing a loose white silk shirt and black pants and high heels. He looked like a New York fashion doll. "Kami told you I'd be here, I suppose. I thought we were playing the silent game still."
          "Listen to me," Mana said, in that voice which was feminine and masculine all at once. There were times when he thought it was beautiful, and times when he found himself wishing that Mana would just shut up and be normal. It annoyed him.
          Not that any of them were normal.
          "Why should I listen to you-" placing his music on the stand and kicking back the stool so that it purposely scraped across the floor with a high-pitched squeal- "when you don't ever listen to me?"
          "We had an argument," Mana continued, as if Gackt hadn't even spoken. "We can work things out. We've always done so before."
          "We did not have an argument. You had an argument. Which you refused to acknowledge. I don't think avoiding me for the whole week afterwards means that you have my best intentions at heart."
          "Gackt, why are you such a prick?"
          He knew that had been coming. Mana was sarcastic, defensive when pushed, and he was the same way. He supposed that was what made them incompatible. Kami had pointed that out once, jokingly, that he and Mana were like cacti. Both untouchable, both prickly, both too alike to ever enter the others' world. When he and Mana argued - which Közi claimed happened too frequently for anyone's taste - it was like arguing with himself. And he didn't like that either.
          "If you're going to insult me," he said, sitting down and staring at the open keyboard, "insult away. But you're going to waste your breath, because I never listen to you anyway. Isn't that what you just said?"
          "Gackt, all I said was that I had an objection to your song style. Not an objection to your-"
          "My song, my voice, my style, me. If you don't like my song, say so. I can change it. Style's not something I can change overnight and you know it."
          "A band is not something you can change overnight, either!" Mana's voice rose, losing some of its feminine quality. Mana actually had a very strong voice, but no one would ever be able to tell that unless Mana was yelling. Which Mana was always doing to him, apparently. In the back of his mind he wondered suddenly how Mana would sound as a vocalist. "Do you know what you're doing to us, Gackt?"
          He stood up.
          "Say it, Mana."
          "Say what?"
          "Say it. Just say it."
          Mana's face was shuttered again, the perfect face of the porcelain doll. "I don't know what you're talking about."
          "Damn it!" He pounded his fist on the top of the keyboard and the instrument rattled. "I'm giving you a gift here, Mana. I'm giving you a chance to remake this band into something you'd be proud of, and all you're doing is throwing it away!"
          "I never asked you to do that for me," Mana said softly. There was a long silence and Gackt suddenly felt like something profound was happening, the very currents of air hushed in order to fully observe the scene. "Sit down, Gackt."
          He sat.
          "We've been over this before. I hate doing this in front of the others. Kami and Yu~ki hate it when we argue, and Közi pretends not to care when you are there, but he's always urging me to do something about it. Why do you think they haven't said anything?"
          Gackt stared at the guitarist blankly. Mana looked more like a woman today than he had ever looked in normal clothes. Why was that? "I don't understand."
          " 'What is human,' " Mana quoted softly. "That is our motto."
          He felt impatient. "I know that. Look, if you want to philosophize, find another time. I'll bring you on a night drive and we can go to Yokohama and you can tell me there or something. All I want to do now is practice, and-"
          "Gackt, I think we need to talk," Mana said, and he recognized the voice of someone used to taking charge.
          "Not now."
          "Yes, now."
          "I'm not listening to you," he said angrily, getting up and grabbing his sheet music off the keyboard and shrugging on his jacket. "Goodbye, Mana."
          "Gackt!"
          The door slammed and he strode down the hallway of the studio, throwing the main door open and stuffing the music into the pocket of his jacket, followed by his hands, slipping on his sunglasses and making his way down the sidewalk almost blindly. There were pedestrians on both sides of him, shoppers jabbering loudly and swinging shopping bags, children running, laughing, salarymen walking back to the office after lunch.
          He was a musician, not a salaryman, but he often felt like he was working just as hard with even less to show for it.
          "My band doesn't appreciate me," he mumbled to the ground, keeping his eyes down as he jostled through the crowd and hoping no one would notice him and ask for an autograph.
          No one did, and he reached his car, plopped down in the drivers' seat and stared at the road morosely before putting it in gear and backing it out of the lot, down the road. Traffic wasn't as bad as usual and it only took him thirty minutes to get home, thirty minutes which he spent glaring at the road and the traffic lights and the street signs and everything else that deserved a glare.
          The answering machine light was blinking when he got up to the apartment and he threw his coat off, grabbing a bottle of wine from the refrigerator and reached for the cork. Paused, watching the light.
          "Oh, hell," he muttered, putting down the bottle and walking over to the phone, pushing the messages button.
          "Gackt, we need to talk. I'll take you up on your drive offer. Tomorrow night. Bring your song with you."

[There's a feeling I get when I look to the west
                    And my spirit is crying for leaving
                              In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees
And the voices of those who stand looking]

December 16, 1998

Went on night drive. Heard Mana out. There wasn't much to say, just like I thought. Not much to say that I didn't already know. And I know what I have to do, I just don't want to do it.
I don't know how to tell them.

          "The nightscape's very beautiful, just like Közi said."
          The hood of the car was cold through his pants and overcoat, but he sat staring at the lights of Tokyo below them. "Well, we're here. I brought my song. Now's your chance to speak your mind, Mana. Before I decide I don't want to listen to you again."
          "You know, Gackt," Mana said softly, "For all our arguing, when we actually agree on something, it really makes it worthwhile."
          He said nothing.
          "Remember back in our Voyage days?"
          "What about them?"
          "It was…fun." Did Mana actually sound wistful? "I miss it somewhat. The music we made back them was beautiful."
          "The porcelain doll has feelings after all," he said, not missing the blank expression that crossed Mana's face as he said the words. "And the music we make now isn't beautiful?"
          "I-"
          "Just because it's different," Gackt cut in before Mana could speak again, "doesn't mean it's not beautiful. It's different, that's all. Our melodies, our philosophies, our motto is still the same."
          "There is that," Mana said stiffly. "But there are different things that compose humanity."
          Gackt suppressed a snort. "I can't believe you're telling me this. You know, Mana, sometimes I don't believe that you're human at all."
          "I'm as human as you are. Just in a different way. And unless I recall correctly, who is it that keeps telling the media that he was born in 1540?"
          An airplane passed by overhead and they both looked up.
          "I think I know why you wanted to talk to me," Gackt said finally. "And you know, you're right."
          "And why is that?"
          "I don't fit," he said, looking straight into those blue-rimmed eyes that looked black in the moonlight. "I've never fit. I tried to make this band into something that you didn't want it to be, and you're angry that I've succeeded, aren't you? That I'm still succeeding. Angry that the others won't say anything."
          "Gackt, you-"
          Gackt held up a hand. "Hold on, I'm not finished. This isn't your confession, Mana, it's something I know - that I've known for a long time - and I know you don't like me. Or maybe you do. But that's a different story. The thing is, maybe the others don't say anything because they don't like to argue with me. Or maybe they don't say anything because they like where I'm going. Because I've given them a new, higher vision to add onto the one we already have. And you're afraid of that."
          "You-" Mana began again.
          "You're afraid." Gackt leaned forward, intense. "You're afraid I'm going to take your band away from you, aren't you? Aren't you?"
          Mana looked away.
          He pressed on, ruthless. "I'm not done yet. You think that Malice Mizer is your band, Mana, but it's not. Have you ever considered us? Have you ever considered me? Közi? Yu~ki? Kami? Or is it all about you?"
          "You," Mana said, his face still turned away, "are a heartless bastard."
          "I could say the same about you," Gackt retorted. "The thing is, the band likes me. They like me, Mana, even if you don't. And nothing you do or say can change that."
          "Gackt."
          "Nothing you say to me matters."
          "I don't dislike you. What I want just isn't what you want. And who are you to speak for the rest of them? I've known them longer than you have."
          "Longer doesn't mean better," Gackt said. "I'd like you try to tell Kami that you know him better than I know him. I'm one of you, just as if I'd been here all along, from the beginning. And they know it."
          "Gackt, it's not your band either." In the moonlight he saw Mana turn back towards him, beautiful as usual, like a moon goddess. "Maybe it's not mine, but it's more mine than it is yours. I was the one who let you in, and I can push you back out again."
          "You can't do that," he said. "You need me."
          Mana smiled, but he could have sworn that at the edges of those painted eyes, there glimmered unshed tears. Then he blinked, and they were gone. The mask was back.
          "I don't need you, Gackt," the porcelain doll said. "And neither do they."

                                                                      [And it's whispered that soon, if we all call the tune                                                   Then the piper will lead us to reason
                              And a new day will dawn for those who stand long
          And the forests will echo with laughter]

January 3, 1999

It's very cold outside. Haven't been doing much. Went to the park the other day to sit, sketch. Can't play. Nothing's coming. Mind is blank.

          He had the music sometimes, but not the lyrics. Or maybe sometimes the lyrics but not the music. Just when he thought he had a grip on one, he'd lose the other.
          Usually it would be them writing the music and him writing the lyrics, and that song was made for that. It didn't fit with him. He put down his pencil and stared out the window, then picked it up again and started doodling various squiggly hiragana on the paper, mind wandering.

          A. I. U. E. O.
          Ka. Ki. Ku. Ke. Ko.
          Ta. Chi. Tsu. Te.

          He stopped before his pencil could make the final stroke of To, crumpled up the paper and tossed it into the trash. Digging his lighter out of his pocket, he lit one of the lonely cigarettes strewn on the corner of the desk, inhaled deeply and blew out the smoke.
          Mana hadn't been at their New Years party that night, but he hadn't expected the guitarist to show up. He had been surprised when Yu~ki had come, had been even more surprised when Közi had shown up without Mana in tow. Usually Közi and Mana came and went in a pair, and Yu~ki was just antisocial to begin with. Kami was there, as he expected, but Kami was always friendly and cheerful.
          Happy New Year, Camui Gackt. Here's to our music.
          That was when he had gotten drunk.
          There's no music, Kami, he wanted to say. There might be your music, but it is not our music. I thought you knew me better than that.
          Though maybe Kami did, and just wasn't saying anything. He'd been away in Osaka at Christmas, but called at least twice a week to check up on Gackt. To keep a friend entertained, Kami had said cheerfully when Gackt had asked him about it over the phone once, but he suspected that the drummer had heard something of what had happened from Mana and was trying to wheedle it out of him.
          Well, Kami wouldn't get it. Mana and he were, as far as he was concerned, no longer speaking to each other, and nothing Kami did would fix that. Not unless Mana came crawling to his apartment on hands and knees begging for forgiveness, and Gackt couldn't even imagine Mana getting down on his knees to look under his bed for a lost sock.
          I don't need you, Gackt. And neither do they.
          He had been trying to expand the vision, to give it another angle, but somewhere it had gone wrong. If only he could make Mana see, maybe they could start over. Maybe they could…
          He got up, turned on the CD player and shoved in the Led Zeppelin CD, putting it on track four on repeat, falling back on the bed with his legs draped over the side, one arm over his eyes even though it was dark in his room like it always was. Just like he liked it.
          There's a feeling I get when I look to the west And my spirit is crying for leaving
          The first time he had heard this song it had made him cry, but he couldn't cry now. It had been so long ago, it seemed, when Mana and Kami had come to hear him sing. When Mana had told him that they wanted him in the band because there was something in his voice that they wanted. Something in his music, something in him.
          Funny, after all that, he still didn't know what it meant to be human.
          "Born in 1540," he muttered to the ceiling. The cigarette had burned almost down to his fingertips and he stubbed it into the ashtray. "Damn you, Mana. There's something in my voice that you want, but you don't need me. I've never been anything to you, have I? A toy? A puppet? One of your dolls?"
          The ghosts which he had used to see as a child had all been sad ones. Perhaps that was because that was what he was destined to be. A sad ghost, wandering, unfulfilled. Forever.
          He wondered how Tetsu had felt when Mana had…kicked him out. Mana had refused to talk about it when Gackt had questioned him at one of their first meetings. Tetsu was not right for us. For our sound. And he wanted to leave, so we let him go.
          He'd always known that it wasn't a "we" but an "I" in that statement. He'd seen it in the other members' faces at recording sessions, at practice when Mana would say something that they didn't like. Közi would get a peculiar look on his face like he had swallowed something sour, and Gackt knew that two things would happen: Közi would give Mana an interrogation later after practice, and Mana would win. Yu~ki would stare at the ceiling and then at the floor and not say a word, just nod. Kami…Kami would grin over at Gackt and shrug. And of course, Gackt would object.
          And Mana would win.
          Actually, come to think of it, Gackt had never once won an argument with Mana. It had always been delicate subtle undertones of compromise, just enough to make him think that he was getting somewhere. But it was all how much Mana was willing to compromise, and it would always stop right at that point where Gackt was sick of arguing and just wanted to get something, anything done. And then Mana would say, all right.
          All through Merveilles. Especially with Le Ciel. Oh sure, the other members could write their own songs and Mana wouldn't say a word, even though Gackt might have helped out with the songwriting. But when Gackt wrote a song, there was always something wrong with it. Even Regret hadn't been his idea, as much as he liked to claim it. When he'd told Mana, the guitarist had claimed that he was thinking about an instrumental coupling song anyway, then said something to the effect of "it better be good."
          He really hated guitarists.
          Stairway to Heaven was still playing on the twentieth time of repeat, and Gackt reached over to slap the CD player off. Lay back with his head pillowed on his arms, waited for the phone to ring, for the radio to magically come on and distract him. Something. Anything.
          He was still waiting when he drifted off to sleep.

December 22, 1998

Drove Közi to the doctor and then went to visit Kami, but forgot he was out on a date. Still haven't talked to Mana. Don't plan on doing so.

          "Gackt? It's Közi. My car broke down and I have an doctor's appointment in forty minutes. You think you could give me a ride?"
          Közi's apartment building complex was decorated with Christmas lights in the front and Gackt made a face of disgust when Közi got in the car, dressed in a warm overcoat and a black hat and gloves.
          "Honestly, how tacky."
          "Hey now," Közi said, taking off his hat and gloves. "I'll have you know that this outfit was quite expensive."
          Gackt sighed. "No…I mean the…Christmas lights. That's unspeakably ugly."
          Közi laughed. "Oh, that. I'm not responsible for the way my landlord decorates."
          Pulling away from the curb, Gackt turned onto the main road. "For such an expensive place, you'd think they would have more taste."
          The guitarist shrugged, settling back into his seat and looking out the window. "Again, I say I have nothing to do with it. Although Mana…" he trailed off.
          "Mana what?" Gackt said sharply.
          "What's that on the radio?" Közi said instead. Under the crunching of the tires on the road and the hum of the engine, a woman's voice was singing on horribly out of tune.
          "Some pop thing. I don't know what it is. And don't change the subject."
          "That sounds terrible. Speaking of taste, Gackt." Közi reached out and turned off the radio.
          "Hey!"
          "Now you're changing the subject. You and Mana had an argument. Didn't you?"
          Gackt twisted his lips in what he hoped was an acceptable smile. "We argue all the time. What else is new?"
          "Gackt, be honest with me just for once. Mana won't talk about you. When I ask him if we're ever going to practice, he says no. Just no, like that. I've never seen him so…"
          "Upset? Distraught?" Gackt snorted, turning right, narrowly avoiding an oncoming car, which blared its horn at him as it passed. "Don't believe him. He's the one who's throwing a tantrum."
          "What happened?"
          The light turned red and he jammed on the brakes. The car ground to a halt. " Közi, I don't want to talk about it, all right? Some things are better left alone, and Mana and I are one of them. Alone, as in if I never saw him again, I'd be very happy."
          "You are incorrigible," Közi said. "Both of you. Sometimes I think we have a zoo instead of a band on our hands."
          Gackt watched his hands grip the steering wheel tightly as he turned into the drive of the clinic. Slowing to the front steps. "Közi?"
          "I wish you two would…make up. Talk. Something." Közi reached out to grasp the door handle. "I respect both of you…you're both great musicians and I think that each one has something to offer Malice Mizer. Don't give up just because of this, all right?"
          "Közi," Gackt said. "Mana said…you didn't need me. That none of you did."
          Közi's face hardened. "Mana doesn't know what he's talking about. He was just angry. That's all. He didn't mean it."
          "My music is important to me, Közi. You know that. I'm not just doing this because I want…I want it for myself. I want us to-"
          "I know, Gackt, I know." Közi chewed on his lip as if trying to figure out how to say something. "Just…try to be less stubborn? Once in a while? We all have our own visions of the band…you can't do it alone. None of us can. That's what the band's about, remember."
          He waited for Gackt to respond, but when no response came, he opened the door. "Thanks for the ride."
          "Do you need one home?"
          "No. My girlfriend's coming to get me. She just had an errand to run so she couldn't drive me. Thanks again." Door slam.

January 5, 1999

Talked to Kami today. He understands.
I knew he would.

          "What are you still doing here?"
          He stilled his fingers on the keyboard as the voice broke over the stream of notes. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
          "Were you wanting to practice, Kami?"
          "Not unless you feel like it. Have you been here all day?"
          "More or less," Gackt said. "Have a…new song."
          He turned just in time to see Kami raise an eyebrow. "Oh? Can I see?"
          Gackt hesitated, shook his head. "It's not really done. I'll show it to you when it's finished. Just some final touches."
          "Lyrics and music both." Kami exhaled between his teeth, coming closer. He could smell the fresh smell of cigarette smoke. "You're talented beyond words."
          "Heh. Mana-" grinding the name out from between his teeth, "doesn't think so."
          "Let's play," Kami said again, going to the drum set in the corner, pulling his sticks out of their case. "The studio doesn't close for another hour. Duet?"
          "Sure," he said softly, waiting for the cue and then spreading his fingers for the first chord.
          He missed the practices, he realized as Kami's drums came in and he felt the music pull him in, surround him. The notes from the keys flowed effortlessly and he leaned into it, matching keystroke to drumstroke, chord change to rhythm. He missed…the band.
          He stopped.
          Kami's drumsticks came down on the drums before he realized that there was no more piano. Gackt could feel the drummer's eyes on him. "Gackt?"
          "I need to tell you something," Gackt said.
          Kami was silent for a moment, then stood up, placing the sticks back in the pouch. "It's about Mana, isn't it?"
          "Not really. Well, kind of."
          Kami slapped him on the back gently as he grabbed his coat off the rack. "Let's go for a drive. You like that. And it's stuffy in here. And I want a cigarette."
          They took Kami's car. He didn't mind; he didn't feel like driving anyway, and he already knew where Kami was going as they took the turn to Yamashita Park. Stopping. He got out and walked a little ways, just standing and watching the moon, feeling the cold winter air snap against his cheek. He wondered if it would snow.
          "The sea's always beautiful here," Kami said softly. The drummer had lit a cigarette, holding it between his fingers. He watched the smoke drift.
          "Yes," he breathed. "It is."
          He felt Kami's eyes on him and when the drummer spoke, there was a current of heavy sadness under his voice. "You're leaving us, aren't you?"
          If it wasn't for the sudden gravity of the situation, he could have smiled. Because it was suddenly so clear and so simple to him what he had to do, and he could have done it a long time ago. Stupid. So stupid. "I could never hide anything from you."
          "No, you couldn't. Why? Why are you leaving?"
          He laughed.
          "Gackt, this isn't funny."
          "I don't mean for it to be."
          "What about the band? How are we supposed to go on without you? Gackt, you don't know what you're doing."
          "Kami," Gackt said, "you don't know what you just did."
          "What?"
          "I didn't want to think about it…until you said it just now. But now that you have…I guess it's all right. Because I didn't have to tell you."
          "What are you talking about?" Kami's voice was raw, angry. "I can't believe you're doing this."
          There was no trace of the smiling drummer now, no sign of the optimistic man who always had something positive to say. Gackt felt a stab of guilt, but there was no going back now.
          "I'm sorry," he said.
          "Yeah, you damn well should be! I thought we were a family…a team. We had a vision, Gackt!" Kami was shouting now, one hand half raised into a fist. He threw the cigarette down, ground it under his boot. "And you go and break it apart!"
          He'd never seen Kami this upset, and somewhere in the back of his mind he wanted to reach out and touch him, say, it's all right, Kami. But there was no time for that now.
          "Kami, I-"
          "I've known," Kami said bitterly. "I knew this was going to happen. Ever since you and Mana started arguing, it's been coming…I was just too busy telling myself that you'd never do it. I thought I knew you. What did Mana say, Gackt? What did he do to make you decide to leave?"
          "It's not Mana," he said, and discovered at the same time that it really wasn't. Mana was the spark, not the reason. "It's not Mana," he said again, honestly. "Don't blame Mana, Kami. Mana…wants the best for you."
          "Oh, now you're taking his side. Cut the shit, Gackt, and stop trying to be all noble and romantic. It's-"
          "Kami, listen to me." He looked out over the sea, at the sparkling waters under the moon, dark under the silver, just like him. He remembered vividly drowning under those waves such a long time ago, and wondering what he had done to deserve such a death.
          But he hadn't died.
          "Kami, sometimes people…don't agree. Mana and I just don't agree. He wants one thing and I want another, and if I stayed, the band would break apart. So…I'm not breaking us, I'm putting you back together. I don't belong, Kami. I need something different."
          "That a load of shit," Kami said. "You're scared. You're running. I won't let you do it."
          "I am not running!"
          "Yes you are, and you know it!"
          "Kami," Gackt said, emphasizing the syllables. "Ka. Mi. Shut up and listen to me."
          "I really don't feel like it," Kami said. "You're cold, Gackt, you know that? Cold."
          "Mana said something to that effect a while back…but that's another story," he said hastily after Kami glared at him again. The drummer wasn't angry anymore. Gackt could read it in his face. But he had never seen Kami look so forlorn. "Kami? Please don't be upset. I thought you said you knew that I was going to leave."
          "I did," Kami whispered. "But I thought…if I pretended it was all right, you wouldn't."
          "I thought that too," he heard himself say. "I've been trying not to think about it. I thought that if I…I didn't want to hurt any of you."
          "Gackt."
          "But I can't stay here. Yes, maybe I'm arrogant. You know I am, Kami, and you know Mana is. And we have a right to be. I'm just as good a musician as he is, and I can match him step for step. What I didn't see before is that our steps are different sizes."
          "I don't understand."
          "That's all right," he whispered. "You don't have to. But I know I have to go. The music is calling me in a different direction. You'll keep going, I know it, and I don't have to be with you for that…it's like Yu~ki said, in de memoire. The melody is always changing, and we're just a small part of it."
          Kami turned and took a few steps, and for a moment he thought that the drummer would go back to the car and get in and drive off and leave him there. Even if he did, Gackt wouldn't blame him. It was a hard thing, to do something like this, but it was harder for the people left behind.
          But Kami stopped.
          "You do what's best for you, Gackt," Kami said at last. "As much as I'd like to make your choices for you, I'm only a friend…I’m not a father, or a teacher, or a counselor, and you're far better at anything than I'll ever be."
          Gackt stared at the moon, its white face appearing closer than it had ever been before. "That's not true, Kami."
          "You have a spark inside of you that I don't have. That maybe Közi has, and maybe Yu~ki has, and I know Mana has it. But I know I don't. So I try as hard as I can to be the best drummer I can possibly be and tell my message to the world that way. But your path is a different one."
          "That's not true, Kami," Gackt said again. "You know as well as I do that sometimes I'm an arrogant bastard. Mana was right, you know. Maybe if I cared more, I wouldn't be leaving."
          "I don't think so," Kami said. "I think you care too much. And sometimes I hate you for that, and sometimes I love you for it."
          He felt an incredible hollow open up inside of him at those words, and he knew this was it. That this was goodbye.
          Sure, it would not be final until he had told Mana and they had argued about it and Mana had told Közi and Közi had called him and then Közi had told Yu~ki and Yu~ki had called him and then they would have a fine discussion over his musical abilities and various other things that were not so pleasant, and then that would be that. And he would no longer be a member of Malice Mizer.
          But telling Kami was different. Kami wouldn't argue with him. Kami knew him too well to do that.
          "I'm sorry," Gackt said. "This is the best thing I can do for you. Don't forget me."

[And as we wind on down the road
                    Our shadows taller than our soul
                                        There walks a lady we all know
                                                            Who shines white light and wants to show
                                                                                How everything still turns to gold]

January 6, 1999

It's over. Talked to Mana. I'm done.
I can't sleep.

          It was three in the morning and he still couldn't get to bed, wandering around his room absently, staring out the window. It was snowing lightly now. The telephone conversation with Mana had been short and brief and to the point, consisting of Mana saying that fine, he didn't care what Gackt did as long as he never bothered them again, and Gackt saying fine, I don't care what you do as long as you never bother me again.
          Közi had come over for a little while, pleading with him, and then he'd left. Yu~ki hadn't even bothered to come over, just called him on the phone asking why, and then wishing Gackt luck and hanging up.
          He had wanted to go visit Yu~ki, actually, but now was probably not a good time.
          The song was still laying on his desk, the parts all written out, the drums part arranged for Kami's liking, and a bass line that Yu~ki would love, and he had tried to put in the guitar that would make Közi happy and even tried to write something for Mana. But it was all pointless now.
          He had considered giving this to the band anyway, but it just wouldn't sound right without him singing it, and he knew that was a selfish reason, but he just couldn't do it. And Mana would probably tear it all to shreds, proclaiming that they didn't need the ghost of their former vocalist hanging over them.
          Former. Former vocalist.
          It wasn't official until he'd gone through the channels at the studio and the company and announced it, but he figured he could do that later. A few days to let the band get over their shock, a few days for him to think about his future.
          He turned on the CD player again. The Led Zeppelin CD was still there and he skipped it to track four, hearing the notes of the acoustic guitar whistle mournfully through the quiet, dark apartment.
          The flames look like little stars at night, reflecting on the porcelain skin of dolls.
          He wondered if Mana would burn a candle in his memory.
          What are you going to do now that I'm gone? You wanted this to happen, didn't you? I hope you're happy.
          Why were partings always so lonely?
          This is the best thing I can do for you. Don't forget me.
          He crossed to his desk again, sat and stared at the white sheets of paper until the notes blurred in his eyes and he found that they were tears. He blinked them away.
          The song was still untitled, and he reached for a pencil, scrawled the word at the top of the paper.
          MISERABLE.
          Human nature, Mana had said. Malice and misery. Thus our band name. We don't imitate anything, but we make our own music that reflects our souls.
          Slowly, he guided his pencil back up to the song title, scratched out the S and sketched in a Z.
          MIZERABLE.
          Don't forget me. I haven't forgotten you.
          He walked to the kitchen to grab a drink out of his mostly empty refrigerator and noticed that the message light was blinking on the answering machine. Who could possibly have called him? He hadn't heard the phone ring, but he had been asleep for most of the day.
          Hesitantly, he pressed the button, putting his ear close to the speaker.
          "Gackt? It's Kami. I suppose you're not there, because you would have picked up the phone if you were. I was just calling to let you know that we're all here, still. That we talked it over and we respect your decision. Even Mana. And sometimes things might not seem like they'll work out, but you just have to push through. I know you can do that. We're not all porcelain dolls, and we're bound to get hurt, but as long as we rebound...anyway, we're still friends, right? If you ever feel like talking, give me a call. If not…I'm sure we'll cross paths sometime. Take care of yourself."
          The machine whirred to a stop.
          "We're not all porcelain dolls, Kami?" he said into the darkness, and laughed. It was an odd sound, but he found he could get used to it, laughter. Maybe he could laugh again. Maybe he had done the right thing, and maybe he had done the wrong thing, but as he reached for the phone, none of that mattered, because...
          His fingers dialed the number from memory, and then the phone was ringing and he was whispering please pick up, please be awake, please be there…
          "Hello?"
          He smiled.
          "Hello, Kami. This is Gackt."

December 2001
in memory of Kami